Leonard sat on the bench on the Alton side of the field and watched the kickers at work. There had been a good ten minutes of signal drill for both squads and now only the punters and drop-kickers remained on the gridiron. The game was about to start. Across the field the Kenly Hall sections were cheering loudly each member of their team in turn. The officials were talking earnestly on the side-line. Something white fluttered across Leonard’s shoulder from the stand above and behind him and settled at his feet. He stooped and picked it up. It proved to be the two middle pages of the official program. He looked around to see if any one would claim it. But no one did and he settled back and regarded the thing. On each page, where they had faced each other before they had torn loose, were the line-ups of the teams, Alton to the left, Kenly Hall to the right, each boxed in by advertisements of local enterprises: “White Swan Laundry--Special Rates to Academy Men--You Can’t Go Wrong, Fellows!” “Bell and Falk, Photographers to All Classes Since 1912.” “Lakeville Pressing Club--Best and Quickest Service in the City--” Leonard’s attention wandered to the column of names in the center of the page. “Alton,” he read. “Staples, left end; Butler, left tackle; Stimson, left guard; Newton, center; Grant, right guard; Wells, right tackle; Emerson, Capt., right end; Appel, quarterback; Menge, left halfback; Reilly, right halfback; Greenwood, fullback.” His gaze crossed to the opposite list: “Hanley, left end; Pope, left tackle; Tinkner, left guard; Henderson, center--” Interest waned, and he returned to the first row of names; especially to the fifth from the top. This was the first time Leonard had ever seen his name in a regular program, to say nothing of one with a colored cover and costing fifteen cents, and he was pardonably thrilled. It was, he reflected, something to have your name down in the line-up, even if you didn’t play! And Leonard wasn’t going to play; at least, not much. He felt pretty confident of getting into the game long enough to secure his letter, and, if luck was with him, he might even play for five minutes or ten, supposing Renneker or Stimson failed to last. But, in spite of the official program, Renneker was right guard to-day and not Grant.