"Stop their slashing attack the first half, fellows, and you'll win the game. The reason General Grant was so successful in his campaigns was that he did not realize when he was defeated. He advanced despite his defeats. That's the spirit I want you fellows to show! If you fail to gain ground in one attempt put just that much more strength into the next attempt. Game starts in ten minutes, fellows, so you'd better be getting out on the field. Benz, remember to hit that line lower. Neil, call your signals fast and snappy. Keep the team up and at 'em. You linemen, the fate of to-day's game is largely up to you. You must shoulder the brunt of the work and shatter the Pennington attack. The men who will start to-day's game are,--" Sixteen heads bobbed suddenly up and sixteen pairs of entreating eyes focused themselves upon the coach. "Left end, Bartz; left tackle, Oole; left guard, Frey; center, Williams; right guard, McKean; right tackle, Potts; right end, Pole; quarterback, Neil; left half, Gary; right half, Patterson; fullback, Hoffmaster. Now, out of here, every one of you! Show lots of pep and don't let that crowd bother you! You have played in front of big crowds before and won. Do it today!" The eleven fortunate men jumped nimbly to their feet and filed quickly out of the locker room. Judd slapped Cateye on the back as his chum arose to go. "Give 'em fits, pal," he said, simply. CHAPTER XVII THE FIRST HALF The appearance of the Bartlett eleven touched a match to all the explosives that the Bartlett rooters had stored up and a riot of deafening sound rocked the field. The crowd easily outnumbered any ever congregated at Bartlett. Half of the eastern bleachers had been reserved for the Pennington rooters, while the section directly across was occupied by Bartlett enthusiasts. The seating capacity was greatly overtaxed. At least two thousand people hovered behind the goal posts at the ends of the field and swarms were even accommodated in roped off areas between the foot of the bleachers and the playing lines. Both teams appeared a trifle nervous before the game commenced, undoubtedly caused by the magnitude of the crowd and the importance of winning. McDonald, Thorpe, Preston, McCabe, and Judd, all Bartlett substitutes, swathed in extra sweaters, seated themselves by the sidelines, in an advantageous position, to watch the game. Benz, captain, conferred with Melvin, Pennington captain. The referee tossed a coin. Melvin won the toss and chose to receive the kickoff. Benz selected the north goal for Bartlett to defend. The two teams lined up quickly. An avalanche of sound came from the spectators. "Are you ready?" shrieked the referee to the Pennington captain. Melvin raised his hand in the affirmative. "Ready, Bartlett?" But Benz was crouching, tying up a shoe lace, preparatory to kicking, and trying to overcome his nervousness. This prolonged the tenseness.