Willoughby has been training the scrub just as he did the regular
team. They know the same plays, and once the signals are decided
on the whole thing will move along like a well greased machine.
He's done wonders with the raw material. And if Columbia wins this
year, much of the credit belongs to the trainer, our old Princeton
grad."

"Hear! hear! Three cheers for Coach Willoughby!"

And they were given with a will.

Frank and Ralph came together at intermission. While they munched
a bit of lunch, they naturally fell into conversation, and, of
course, their talk must be in connection with the stirring events
of the preceding night.

"Have you met Tony?" asked Frank, with a chuckle of amusement.

"No. You see, he's a junior and I'm only a soph, so we run in
different grooves. What about him, Frank?" asked the other,
eagerly.

"I was sent into Miss Condit's room with a message from Mr.
Wellington, and, of course, I felt a little curious to know how
Tony looked. While I waited for an answer to the note I carried, I
glanced over to where he sat. Would you believe it, he had turned
deliberately around in his seat, so that his back was toward me."

"Then perhaps I did put my mark on him?" suggested Ralph, eagerly.