opportunity to take part in the play going on, so as to become used to
it.

As the great day approached everyone seemed to be more filled with
ginger than at any time in the past. Coach Hooker was racing this way
and that, calling, adjuring, scolding mildly at times, but always with
an eye singly to the advantage of the Chester interests. If the team
did not pull off a victory with Marshall few there would be to say it
was any fault of old Joe.

Jack had been in the melee for quite some time now, and was giving way
to a substitute who seemed eager to get in the game. Joining the group
over at one side Jack fell into conversation with some of his mates.

As he stood there he continued to follow the excited actions of the
bunch out on the field. The counting could be plainly heard, and then
would come the lightning-like play as the ball was put in motion;
fellows leaped into action, each with a definite aim in view. Then Joe
would call them back, to tell them where they fell short, and could
improve on the play.

"Old Joe seems to see everything that goes on, just as if he had a
dozen eyes in his head," remarked Joel Jackman, who was also allowing
a sub to take his place in the line-up.

"Well, that's what makes him the clever coach he is," Jack told him.
"In his way he's like the old orchestra leader, Theodore Thomas. I've
heard it said that when his orchestra of a hundred and twenty pieces
was practicing some big movement by one of the great composers, Mr.
Thomas would suddenly stop the music, and scold one player in