"But," Jack went on to assure himself, "after the first period we'll
all be on our tiptoes, and ready to show them what we can do. By then
we'll have a good grasp on their style of mass play, and what old Joe
has taught us will turn to our advantage. However, it's up in the air
still, and as much our game as Marshall's. The only thing I know is
that we expect to fight with every ounce of strength we've got in us,
and never give up till the last whistle blows. No one could ask for
more; no boy do more. And I do firmly believe we'll come back home
tonight crazy with joy over our first scalp."

Later on, having eaten a light lunch, Jack set out for the rendezvous,
clad in his now well-worn suit. Rough usage soon takes the edge off a
new set of football togs, for much of the work is done upon the
ground. Whether grass stains or dirt marks, it does not matter. Like a
sensitive hunter who proceeds to soil a new suit of khaki garments
which he has been compelled to buy, lest some one take him for a
novice in the shooting line, so those who play football take the
keenest pride in their most disreputable clothes. Every stain stands
for a possible struggle on the field that may have spelled a crowning
event for the participant. So they come to look upon these marks as
those of distinction, just as a soldier would the medal he so proudly
wears upon his breast.

The boys were gathering when Jack reached the scene, although it would
be more than a good hour before the start was to be made. Some of them
looked a shade anxious, he was sorry to notice, though really that was
to be expected. Jack made it his duty to try to banish this feeling as
far as possible, and to imbue everyone with some of the same
confidence that was filling his own heart.