“That’s so,” agreed Rob soberly. “And that crowd is surely worried and up in the air. As for Prentiss――say, Gus told me to-day that the management’s in debt about forty dollars already and they can’t get the fellows to shell out. And Hop’s as blue as an Adams sweater. I’m almost sorry for him.” “Huh!” scoffed Evan. “You’d never be sorry for a chap until you had him down and was kneeling on his collar-bone.” “Wrong. I’d be sorry, but I wouldn’t let it interfere with my duty. And I’m not going to now. My duty is to show Hop that he was never intended for a Napoleon or a Julius Cæsar. It will be a helpful lesson for him and may save him mistakes when he gets to college. And now I’m going to bed, for to-morrow is going to be a very, very busy day. Thank you, Professor, for your few well chosen remarks. What have you got to say now, Evan? With psychology rooting for us I guess we’ve got the game cinched this minute, eh?” “Um, maybe; but I’d swap the psychology for another sixty pounds in the line!” CHAPTER XXIII THE INDEPENDENTS DISSOLVE The Saturday before Thanksgiving dawned bleak and gray and cold and by three o’clock, for which hour the game between the School Team and the Independents was set, there was a biting north wind blowing across the field and the heavy clouds were scurrying overhead. It was football weather, and only the spectators found fault with it. On the side-lines it was chilly waiting, and fellows wore their heaviest clothing and stamped up and down to keep warm. There was a hearty cheer for the Independents as that team trotted down from the gymnasium and squirmed through the line of impatient students, and a less enthusiastic one for the School Team when it followed a minute or two later. The teams warmed up for ten minutes and then Mr. Osgood, who had accepted the office of referee, summoned the captains to the center of the field. Rob won the toss and took the east goal and a minute later the play began.