"Why, of course, how silly of me to forget that important fact, Jack!
And, to be sure, the whole Chester football squad will be bunched
close to the line, watching every play that is made, and remembering
it for future reference. Do you think they will down poor old Marshall
easier than we did?"

"They ought to," came the reply, "because they have a team that works
like a well-oiled machine, I've been told. But wait and see. Lots of
sure things in football dope fail to work out when the trial comes
off. I've known a team that ran ten pounds heavier all through to be
smartly beaten by a more lively bunch, that knew just how to carry the
giants off their feet, and keep them from using their great strength.
But here we are at the church, and most of the boys seem to be on
hand."

It had, of course, been agreed that none of the boys should discard
their football togs, though given the liberty of washing up, and
making themselves a little more respectable. What would a lot of
victors on the gridiron look like in a procession, passing shouting
crowds of enthusiastic admirers, if they appeared dressed as if on a
Sunday parade?

Old Joe Hooker was also present, bubbling over with joy over the
success his proteges had won that afternoon. He freely predicted
another strong fight, with a possible victory in sight, when they
faced the Tigers of Harmony on Thanksgiving morning.

In due time the procession started. Crowds were in all the main
streets, and windows in adjacent houses had been illuminated in honor
of the occasion. Chester assumed a really festive air, and what with