moving together as if to resist an attack, whereupon a mighty roar
went up. The cheer-leader increased his antics, and the barking
yell changed to a measured chant, to the time of which the army
marched down the street until the twenty athletes dodged in
through the revolving doors of a cafe, leaving Broadway rocking
with the tumult.

All the city was football-mad, it seemed, for no sooner had the
new-comers entered the restaurant than the diners rose to wave
napkins or to cheer. Men stepped upon chairs and craned for a
better sight of them; women raised their voices in eager
questioning. A gentleman in evening dress pointed out the leader
of the squad to his companions, explaining:

"That is Anthony--the big chap. He's Darwin K. Anthony's son.
You've heard about the Anthony bill at Albany?"

"Yes, and I saw this fellow play football four years ago. Say!
That was a game."

"He's a worthless sort of chap, isn't he?" remarked one of the
women, when the squad had disappeared up the stairs.

"Just a rich man's son, that's all. But he certainly could play
football."

"Didn't I read that he had been sent to jail recently?"

"No doubt. He was given thirty days."