The School had turned out to see the game, but there was no cheering, no
thrill of expectation; the boys stood about and waited quietly, as they
would before ordinary practice. It would be different in another week,
when the St. John’s team were sharing the athletic house with St.
Timothy’s, and the adherents of the two schools were ranged opposite
each other, waving flags and hurling back and forth challenging
cheers—cheers meant to inspirit the players while they dressed. But now
Irving was aware that he in all the crowd was the only one whose nerves
and muscles were quivering, whose voice might not be quite natural or
quite under his control, whose heart was beating hard.

If Lawrence should not play well this time—the first time he had ever
seen him play! Or if anything should happen to him! Irving tramped back
and forth, digging cold hands into his pockets.

The Harvard team was the first to leave the athletic house; they broke
through the line of spectators near where Irving stood and trotted out
on the field. As they passed, he caught his brother’s eye and waved to
him. In the preliminary practice Irving watched him eagerly; with his
light curly hair he was conspicuous, and as he was on the end of the
line his movements were easy to follow. It seemed to Irving that he was
the quickest and the readiest and the handsomest of them all.

Out came St. Timothy’s, and then there was a cheer. The two teams went
rollicking and tumbling up and down the field for a few moments; then
Collingwood and the Harvard captain met in the centre, Mr. Barclay
tossed a coin, and the players went to their positions. Mr. Barclay blew
a whistle; the game began.