The team had been "tuned to the hour." There was not a man on it that was not fit to put up the game of his life. Each one had brought himself down to the weight at which he was most effective, their flesh was "hard as nails," and their lean bronzed faces betokened the pink of condition. If they were doomed to be beaten there could be no excuse put forth that they were not at the top of their form. Not that they anticipated any necessity of making excuses. An air of quiet confidence was everywhere apparent. The old indomitable Blue spirit was as much in evidence as their splendid physical condition. Not that they underestimated their opponents. The "Maroons," despite their defeat of the week before by the "Greys," were formidable opponents and still full of fight. In fact, their loss of that game might be counted on to put them in a savage mood of retaliation, and nothing was more certain than that they would fight like demons to down the Blues. But the latter welcomed the prospect of a bitter fight, and were fully convinced of their ability to give harder blows than they would have to take. "We've simply got to win to-day, fellows," said Tom as they strolled back to their rooms after breakfast. "It's the only way we can have a clear title to the championship," remarked Bert. "It won't do us much good to lick the 'Greys' next week if we fall down to-day. In that case it will be 'even Steven.' Each team will have won and lost one and we'll be as much at sea as ever as to which has the best team." "Then, too," added Dick, "we're fighting to-day on our own grounds and next week we'll have to play the 'Greys' on a neutral field. If we can't win now with that advantage it will be doubly hard to win then." "We'll cop them both," said Bert with an air of finality. And this solution received the hearty approval and implicit faith of his companions. In one form or another every man on the team was swearing to himself that the prediction should come true, if it lay in human power to compass it. As the day wore on the town took on a festal air. Flags and bunting fluttered everywhere. Special trains drew in from every point of the compass and disgorged their thousands to swell the crowds. The streets resounded with the raucous cries of the fakirs, and their wares of canes and flags were soon sold out. Groups of college boys accompanied by pretty girls wandered over the campus, and the walks under the elms resounded with song and laughter. From every city in the country "old grads" came down to renew their youth and shout themselves hoarse for their favorites. The clouded sky and threatening rain daunted them not at all. They were there to make holiday, and serenely ignored everything else. Only an earthquake or a cyclone could have kept them from coming. It might rain "cats and dogs," rheumatism and pneumonia might hang out danger signals, but they cared not a whit. They were out for the time of their lives and bound to get it.