and the roaring of the thousands of voices makes but an undertone, over which he must not fail to hear orders. If he attends to duty he sees but two things—the man opposite and the slippery oblong ball.
When it is all over, his heart is lead or feathers, as the case may be, and he wonders where the black and blue marks came from, and who it was that gave him that frightful crack on the jaw,—but during the game he thinks of how much he wants to win—that's all.
As the team clambered down from the coach, upon their arrival at the grounds, and elbowed their way through the roaring multitude, Hart had a grin on his face that fixed the corners of his mouth as if they had been moulded.
"Holy smoke! look at the size of him!" observed a flashy individual in a silk hat, pointing with his cigar.
"Them's the boys!" cried a knotty-faced little Irishman. "Them's the Princetons!"
Some of the crowd even extended their hands and touched the players as they elbowed their way toward the dressing-room. Once inside, there was a confusion of low talking and
