There were some who advocated forfeiting the game while there was still time, but this idea didn’t meet with general approval, not even while the stunning effect of the blow was yet at its height. No, they’d play Wolcott and do the best they could. That was only sportsmanly. And maybe the poor, decrepit old Team would crawl out of the contest still recognizable to its closest friends! In any case, defeat was honorable if not desirable! There was a good deal of talk during Wednesday and Thursday about Honor in Defeat, and the Last Ditch, and Going Through With It. Wednesday night’s mass meeting was truly pathetic. “Shadowed Walls” sounded like a dirge when it was sung, and “Win! Win! Wyndham,” for all of its volume, was less a cheer than an intoned elegy. It suggested renunciation but not defiance. Mr. Babcock’s gravely cheerful remarks were applauded politely. The School appreciated his efforts but was not to be deluded. There were other speakers, too, and they wasted a lot of words, in the judgment of their hearers. What was the good of being hopeful when there wasn’t any hope left? But on Thursday evening the meeting was different. Though defeat was still accepted as inevitable, the notion of taking it lying down was no longer popular. The sentiment to-night favored getting in just as many good, hard licks as was possible before being counted out. There was still a strong “We who are about to die salute you” savor to proceedings, but the salutation was distinctly defiant. A courteous letter from the Wolcott Academy Athletic Association deploring the unfortunate loss to Wyndham of its Head Coach was read and almost moved the hearers to tears. Somehow, there seemed something quite touching in the idea of the lion sympathizing with its victim before devouring him! Wyndham cheered that letter to the echo. The Scrub did not disband on Wednesday, according to custom, although Wednesday witnessed the final real game between it and First. At Mr. Babcock’s direction the Scrub postponed dissolution for twenty-four hours and on Thursday lined up opposite the big team for some twenty minutes while the latter put the polishing touches on several plays, among them Number 30. Tackling was prohibited, and the somewhat ludicrous spectacle of Billy Desmond and Al Greene scowling darkly at each other without once coming to grips was presented. The captaincy of the Scrub had fallen to Johnny Thayer on Monday, and it was Johnny who gathered the team about him in the early twilight that Thursday afternoon and led the cheer. “Win, win, Wyndham! Win, win, Wyndham! Win, win, Wyndham! Scrub! _Scrub!_ SCRU-U-UB!”