The sun was pleasant, the ten o’clock bell would not ring for several minutes, and there was an invitation in the way in which Mason edged away from the post. Allan was a warm admirer of Mason, and the fact that, as was natural, he seldom had an opportunity to speak with him made him glad of the present opportunity. There was but one topic of overwhelming interest at present, and that was the track and field meet with Robinson. With two successive defeats against them, and the added result of the last football game still in memory, it is not strange that Erskine men had set their hearts on administering a trouncing to the Brown and regaining something of their old athletic prestige. The boat race and the baseball contests were too far distant for present consideration. “I don’t know when there’s been so much enthusiasm over the athletic meet as there is this year,” said Mason. “And it’s bound to tell, too. I’ve noticed that when the college as a whole wakes up and wants a thing it generally comes pretty near getting it.” “We wanted the football game badly enough,” said Stearns. “Yes, just as we want all of them, but there wasn’t the enthusiasm there has been some years. I think we expected to win, and so didn’t get much wrought up over it. But next year--although you and I won’t be here to see it, Walt--I’ll bet the college will be red-headed over football; there’ll be mass-meetings and the band up from Hastings, and Ware here will be marching out to the field singing ‘Glory, Glory for the Purple’ at the top of his lungs. And the team will just naturally go in and win.” “At that rate,” ventured Allan, “we ought to lick Robinson on Saturday, for, as you say, the fellows are all worked up over it.” “I think we’re going to,” answered Mason, with quiet conviction. “But, of course, I don’t know so much about it as Walt here, and he says I’m off my reckoning.” Allan looked at the captain with surprise. All along Stearns had displayed a confidence that, in Allan’s case at least, had been a great incentive to hard work. Stearns frowned a little as he answered: “Oh, well, maybe to-morrow I’ll be hopeful again. A fellow can’t help having a spell of nerves now and then, you know.” “Well, if it’s only that, we’ll forgive you,” Mason replied. “I thought maybe something had happened. Things have a way of happening, I’ve noticed, just before a meet; Jones lames his ankle, Brown is put on probation, Smith is protested, or something else unforeseen plays havoc.” “That’s so,” said Stearns, emphatically, “and maybe one reason I feel uneasy is because nothing _has_ happened; Robinson hasn’t protested any one and no one has sprained his ankle or got water on the knee. I think I’d feel safer if something of the sort had occurred.” “Well, I guess you’re safe now,” laughed Mason. “The men have quit practise and Robinson’s opportunity for protesting our best men has passed.”