swelled and grew in volume, only to be taken up again and again, till
the sound became one vast echoing roar without apparent end or
beginning.

From the moment the teams appeared, Anna Moore had no eyes or ears for
sights or sounds about her. Every muscle in her lithe young body was
strained to catch a glimpse of one familiar figure. She had little
difficulty in singling him out from the rest. He had stripped off his
sweater and stood with head well down, his great limbs tense, straining
for the word to spring. Anna's breath came quickly, as if she had been
running, the roses that he had sent her heaved with the tumult in her
breast. It seemed to her as if she must cry out with the delight of
seeing him again.

"Look, Grace," said Mrs. Standish Tremont, to the younger of her
nieces, "there is Lennox Sanderson."

"Play!" called the referee, and at the word the Harvard wedge shot
forward and crashed into the onrushing mass of blue-legged bodies. The
mimic war was on, and raged with all the excitement of real battle for
the next three-quarters of an hour; the center was pierced, the flanks
were turned, columns were formed and broken, weak spots were protected,
all the tactics of the science of arms was employed, and yet, neither
side could gain an advantage.

The last minutes of the first half of the game were spent
desperately--Kenneth, the terrible line breaker of Yale, made two
famous charges, Lennox Sanderson, the famous flying half-back, secured
Harvard a temporary advantage by a magnificently supported run.
"Time!" called the referee, and the first half of the game was over.