"Well, no news is good news," quoted Tom. "Let's start. I get nervous when I have to sit around." There was a large crowd on the grandstand at the Fairview gridiron when the Randall team arrived. The seats were rapidly filling up, and when, a little later, the visiting eleven trotted out for practice, they were received with a burst of cheers. "What's the matter with Randall?" demanded Bean Perkins, who had been christened "Shouter" from the foghorn quality of his tones. He generally led the college cheering and singing. Back came the usual reply that nothing whatever ailed Randall. "There's a good bunch out," observed Tom to Phil as they passed the ball back and forth. "Look at the girls! My, what a lot of them!" "And all pretty, too," added Phil. "At least, I know one who is." "Who?" "Miss Tyler." "I know another," spoke the left-end. "Who's that?" "Your sister. She's prettier than the photograph." "You'd better tell her so." "I did." "Whew! It doesn't take you long to get down to business. But come on. They're going to line up for practice," and the two ran over to join their teammates. What a mass of color the grandstands and bleachers presented! Mingled with the youths and men were girls and women in bright dresses, waving brighter-hued flags. There were pretty girls with long horns, tied with streamers of one college or the other. There were more pretty girls with long canes, from which flew ribbons of yellow and maroon--Randall's colors. There were grave men who wore tiny footballs on their coat lapels, a knot of ribbon denoting with which college they sided. Massed in one stand were the cheering students of Randall, bent on making themselves heard above the songs and yells of their rivals. Nor were the girls of Fairview at all backward in giving vent to their enthusiasm. They had songs and yells of their own, and, under the leadership of Madge Tyler, were making themselves heard. Tom, in catching a long kick, ran close to the stand where the Fairview girls were massed. Madge was down in front, getting ready to lead them in a song. "Hello!" cried Tom to her, as he booted the pigskin back to Ed Kerr. "Sorry I can't cheer for you this time!" called Madge brightly. "Well, I'm sorry we will have to push the Fairview boys off the field," retorted Tom. "Oh, are you going to do that?" asked a girl behind Madge, and Tom, who had been vainly looking for her, saw Ruth Clinton. "Sorry, but we have to," he replied. "Aren't you ashamed to cheer against your own brother?" "Oh, I guess Phil is able to look after himself," said Ruth. "Is his shoulder all right, Mr. Parsons?" "Doing nicely." Just then the referee's whistle blew to summon the players from practice. "I'll see you after the game," called Tom, and as he glanced from Ruth to Madge, he saw the latter regarding him rather curiously from her brown eyes. With a queer feeling about the region where he imagined his heart to be, he ran across the field.