The First Five Minutes of Play--A Good Start usually means a Good Ending--Bracelet in the Game--Lueder and Blondy Wallace--"I've Got You Buffaloed"--Tom Shevlin remarked: "Mike, This Isn't Football--It's War"--Bemus Pierce: "Now Keep your Eyes Open and Find out who it Was"--"If You Won't be Beat, You Can't be Beat," said Johnny Poe--Rinehart Tells how he Tried to Get even with Sam Boyle--Barkie Donald and Bemus Pierce--The Yale-Harvard Game at Springfield '94--Result; No Game for Nine Years--Frank Hinkey and Wrightington's Broken Collar-bone--Joe Beacham's Paragon--Sandy Hunt--Bill Hollenback. XXII.--LEST WE FORGET 434-460 Marshall Newell--Gordon Brown--James J. Hogan--Thomas J. Shevlin--Francis H. Burr--Neil Snow--Billy Bannard--Harry Hooper--Richard Harding Davis--McClung. XXIII.--ALOHA 461-464 Hail and Farewell--The Old Game and the New Compared--Exclusively Collegiate Sport--Isaac H. Bromley, Yale '53, Sums up the Spirit of College Life and Sport! [Illustration: THE OLD FIFTH AVENUE SEND-OFF] FOOTBALL DAYS CHAPTER I PREP. SCHOOL DAYS To every man there comes a moment that marks the turning point of his career. For me it was a certain Saturday morning in the autumn of 1891. As I look back upon it, across the years, I feel something of the same thrill that stirred my boyish blood that day and opened a door through which I looked into a new world. I had just come to the city, a country boy, from my home in Lisle, N. Y., to attend the Horace Mann School. As I walked across Madison Square, I glanced toward the old Fifth Avenue Hotel, where my eyes fell upon the scene depicted in the accompanying picture. Almost before I was aware of it my curiosity led me to mingle with the crowd surging in and out of the hotel, and I learned by questioning the bystanders that it was the headquarters of the Yale team, which that afternoon was to play Princeton at the Polo Grounds. The players were about to leave the hotel for the field, and I hurried inside to catch a glimpse of them. The air was charged with enthusiasm, and I soon caught the infection--although it was all new to me then--of the vital power of college spirit which later so completely dominated my life. I recall with vividness how I lingered and waited for something to happen. Men were standing in groups, and all eyes were centered upon the heroes of the team. Every one was talking football. Some of the names heard then have never been forgotten by me. There was the giant Heffelfinger whom every one seemed anxious to meet. I was told that he was the crack Yale guard. I looked at him, and, then and there, I joined the hero worshippers.