and the undergraduate pulse was high and feverish. Steam was at top pressure; and this was a preliminary blow-off, as it were, for the sake of health. No one is late for breakfast on this morning, be it put on record.
At the same early hour Newton Wilberforce Hart awoke in a room in a hotel on Fifth Avenue. He looked across at the other bed and saw that Minton, the half-back, was fast asleep, doubled up like a ball. Hart went to the window. He had never been in the city until the day before, when the team had arrived and driven straight to the hotel. The avenue was quiet, but at a window across the way a little orange-and-black flag floated, and farther down Hart could make out a great blue banner with a huge Y upon it, stretching from one window to another.
Minton had heard him stirring and stretched himself sleepily.
"Good weather, eh?" he grunted. "What time is it?"
"Five o'clock," returned Hart, pulling a watch out of a pocket.
"Skivings! Is that so? I'm going to sleep again." Minton turned over on his side and
