Andy, in common with other candidates for the team, was sitting quietly in his room, for Holwell, the coach, had forbidden any liveliness the night before the game. And Andy had a chance to play. True, it was but a bare chance, but it was worth saving. He had played brilliantly on the scrub team for some time, and had been named as a possible substitute. If several backs ahead of him were knocked out, or slumped at the last moment, Andy would go in. And, without in the least wishing misfortune to a fellow student, how Andy did wish he could play! There came a knock at the door--a timid, hesitating sort of knock. "Oh, hang it! If that's Ikey, trying to sell me a blue sweater, I'll throw him down stairs!" growled Andy. He was nervous. "Come in!" called Dunk, laughing. "Is Andy Blair----Oh, hello, there you are, old man!" cried a voice and Chet Anderson thrust his head into the room. "Well, you old rosebud!" yelled Andy, leaping out of the easy chair with such energy that the bit of furniture slid almost into the big fireplace. "Where'd you blow in from?" "I came with the Harvard bunch. I told you I'd see you here." "I know, but I didn't expect to see you until the game. You're not going to play?" "No--worse luck! Wish I was. Hear you may be picked." "There's a chance, that's all." "Oh, well, we'll lick you anyhow!" "Yes, you will, you old tomcat!" and the two clasped hands warmly, and looked deep into each other's eyes. "Oh!" exclaimed Andy. "I forgot. Chet, this is my chum, Duncan Chamber--Dunk for short. Dunk--Chet Anderson. I went to Milton with him." The two shook hands, and Chet sat down, he and Andy at once exchanging a fund of talk, with Dunk now and then getting in a word. "Did you come on with the team?" asked Andy. "Yes, and it's some little team, too, let me tell you!" "Glad to hear it!" laughed Andy. "Yale doesn't like to punch a bag of mush!" "Oh, you won't find any mush in Harvard. Say, have you heard from Ben?" "Yes, saw him at the Princeton game." "How was he?" "Fine and dandy." "That's good. Then he likes it down there?" "Yes. He's going in for baseball. Hopes to pitch on the freshman team, but I don't know." "You didn't play against the Tiger?" "No, there wasn't any need of me. Yale had it all her own way." "She won't to-morrow." "Wait and see." Thus they talked until Chet, knowing that Andy must want to get rest, in preparation for the gridiron battle, took his leave, promising to see his friend again. The stands were a mass of color--blue like the sky on one side of Yale Field, and red like a sunset on the other. The cheering cohorts, under the leadership of the various cheer leaders, boomed out their voices of defiance. Out trotted the Yale team and substitutes, of whom Andy was one. Instantly the blue of the sky seemed to multiply itself as a roar shook the sloping seats--the seats that ran down to the edge of green field, marked off in lines of white.