"Go ahead, it will do no harm," admitted Black. So Harrington sent off a telegram from a station fifteen miles or so from London. A bit peremptory the telegram was, but it relieved the captain's feelings. This was the telegram: "Frank Armstrong, The Grand, Brighton. Come to London on next train, take taxi to Queen's Club immediately afterwards. Absolutely no excuse for missing team train." But this telegram, as we have seen, never reached the man for whom it was intended. At one o'clock taxicabs dropped the Yale-Harvard athletes, attendants, and trainers at the south gate of Queen's Club. Already several thousand people had gathered in the stands, and a steady stream was pouring in the gates, not with the impetuosity that distinguishes an American crowd, but interested withal in the games they were shortly to see. The majority of the crowd was, of course, English, but the Americans made a brave showing. They gathered together, apparently for mutual support, halfway down the track stretch and at once selected a cheer leader who was now working up enthusiasm by an occasional yell, simply to let the enemy know that young America would be heard from in more ways than one. A surprising number of Americans had come together for the event. Not all were Harvard and Yale men, although members of these two institutions predominated. Students and graduates from universities all over the United States might have been seen in the crowd. It was not a Harvard-Yale affair to them, it was America against England, and everyone from the far side of the Atlantic was there to lend a shout for his countrymen. College lines were forgotten. Along the track-side and in the grand stand speculation was rife as to the outcome of the games. Experts had figured out just how the various men were to finish, and the figures had been printed in the morning papers and in the noon editions. All admitted, however, that the match would be an extremely close one with the chances slightly in favor of the visitors. "Well," said one confident young man in the group of Americans, "we'll take the hundred, two-twenty and both the hurdles. I'd bet my last dollar on that. These Englishmen can't get their legs moving in a short distance." "Ah, yes, but then when it comes to the longer distance we can't keep our wind going. That's where they have us." "Oh, I don't know, there's Harrington, the Yale captain, who can certainly get away with the quarter. He's been doing under fifty seconds right along. He will give us the fifth event, and all we need to tie is one more, and to win, two more. Why, Dick, old fel, it's a cinch." "And what are the other two events, please, Sir Prophet?" "Shot for one, they can't beat old red-top McGinnis. These English chaps never learned how to put a shot anyway, and there's the high jump, certainly ours; it's like taking money from a baby." "Sounds like seven wins, the way you have it figured out."