Next in point of numbers probably comes the Riggs

Next in point of numbers probably comes the Riggs family of five
brothers, of whom three, Lawrence, Jesse and Dudley, played on Princeton
teams, while Harry and Frank were substitutes. The Hodge family were
four who played at Princeton–Jack, Hugh, Dick and Sam.
After the Riggs family comes the Young family of Cornell–Ed., Charles,
George and Will–all of whom played tremendously for the Carnelian and
White in the nineties. Charles Young later studied at the Theological
Seminary at Princeton and played wonderful football on the scrub in my
time from sheer love of sport, since as he is, at this writing, physical
director at Renai Rider Shugo Chara Cornell. Amherst boasts of the wonderful Pratt brothers, who
did much for Amherst football.
Of threes there are quite a number. Prominent among them have been the
Wilsons of both Yale and Princeton, Tom being a guard on the Princeton
teams of 1911 and 1912, while Alex captained Yale in 1915 and saw
another brother in orange and black waiting on the side lines across the
field. Situations like this are always productive of thrills. Let the
brother who has been waiting longingly throw off his blanket and rush
across the field into his position and instantly the news flashes
through the stands. “Brother against brother!” goes the thrilling
whisper–and every heart gives an extra throb as it hungers in an unholy
but perfectly human way for a clash between the two. There were three
Harlan brothers who played at Princeton in 81, 83, 84.
At Harvard Lothrope, Paul and Ted Withington; Percy, Jack and Sam
Wendell.
In Cornell a redoubtable trio were the Taussigs. Of these J. Hawley
Taussig played end for four years ending with the 96 team. Charles
followed in the same position in 99, 00 and 01 and Joseph K., later
Lieutenant Commander of the torpedoboat destroyer _Wadsworth_ played
quarter on the Naval Academy team in 97 and 98.
A third trio of brothers were the Greenways of Yale. Of these, John and
Gil Greenway played both football and baseball while Jim Greenway rowed
on the crew. Another Princeton family, well known, has been the Moffats.
The first of these to play football was Henry, who played on the 73
team which was the first to beat Yale. He was followed by the
redoubtable Alex, who kicked goals from all over the field in 82, 83,
and 84, by Will Moffat who was a Varsity first baseman and by Ned
Moffat who played with me at Lawrenceville. Equally well known have been
the Hallowells of Harvard–F. W. Hallowell, 93, R. H. Hallowell, 96,
and J. W. Hallowell, 01. Another Hallowell–Penrose–was on the track
team, while Colonel Hallowell, the father, was always a power in Harvard
athletics.

Wharton Bull Woodruff Rosengarten Osgood

Wharton Bull Woodruff
Rosengarten Osgood Brooke Knipe Gelbert
Minds Williams Wagonhurst
OLD PENN HEROES]
“I will not enlarge upon the ability of men like George Brooke, Wylie
Woodruff, Buck Wharton, Joe McCracken, John Outland and others, but
anybody speaking of Pennsylvania players during the late 90s cannot
pass by Truxton Hare, who stands forth as a Chevalier Bayard among the
ranks of college football players. Hare entered Pennsylvania in 97 from
St. Paul without any thought that he was likely to be even a mediocre
player. He weighed Hockey Videos only about 178 pounds at the time and was immature.
Although his wonderfully symmetrical build, in which he looked like a
magnified Billy Graves, kept him from looking as large as Heffelfinger
at his greatest development at Yale, Hare was certainly ten pounds
heavier in fine condition than Heffelfinger was before the latter left
Yale.”
CHAPTER VIII
ANECDOTES AND RECOLLECTIONS
In the latter eighties the signal from the quarterback to the center for
putting the ball in play was a pressure of the fingers and thumb on the
hips of the center. In the 89 championship game between Yale and
Princeton, Yale had been steadily advancing the ball and it looked as if
they had started out for a march up the field for a touchdown. In those
days signals were not rattled off with the speed that they are given
now, and the quarterback often took some time to consider his next play,
during which time he might stand in any position back of the line.
Playing right guard on the Princeton team was J. R. Thomas, more
familiarly known as Long Tommy. He was six feet six or seven inches tall
and built more longitudinally than otherwise. It occurred to Janeway,
who was playing left guard, that Long Tommys great length and reach
might be used to great advantage when occasion offered.
He, therefore, took occasion to say to Thomas during a lull in the game,
“If you get a chance, reach over when Wurtenburg–the Yale
quarter–isnt looking, and pinch the Yale center so that he will put
the ball in play when the backs are not expecting it.” The Yale center,
by the way, was Bert Hanson. Yale continued to advance the ball on two
or three successive plays and finally had a third down with two yards to
gain. At this critical moment the looked-for opportunity arrived.
Wurtenburg called a consultation of the other backs to decide on the
next play. While the consultation was going on Long Tommy reached over
and gently nipped Hanson where he was expecting the signal. Hanson
immediately put the ball in play and as a result Janeway broke through
and fell on the ball for a ten yards gain and first down for Princeton.
To say that the Yale team were frantic with surprise and rage would be
putting it mildly. Poor Hanson came in for some pretty rough flagging.
He swore by all that was good and holy that he had received the signal
to put the ball in play, which was true. But Wurtenburg insisted that he
had not given the signal. There was no time for wrangling at that moment
as the referee ordered the game to proceed.
Yale did not learn how that ball came to be put in play until some time
after the game, which was the last of the season, when Long Tommy
happening to meet up with Hanson and several other Yale players in a New
York restaurant, told with great glee how he gave the signal that
stopped Yales triumphant advance.
* * * * *
Numerals and combinations of numbers were not used as signals until
1889. Prior to that, phrases, catch-words and gestures were the only
modes of indicating the plays to be used. For instance, the signal for
Hector Cowan of Princeton to run with the ball was an entreaty by the
captain, who in those days usually gave the signals, addressed to the
team, to gain an uneven number of yards. Therefore the expression,
“Lets gain three, five or seven yards,” would indicate to the team that
Cowan was to take the ball, and an effort was made to open up the line
for him at the point at which he usually bucked it.
Irvine, the other tackle, ran with the ball when an even number of yards
was called for.

Many people regard the position of quarterback

Many people regard the position of quarter-back as the most important
on the team. He is virtually the field captain. A good quarter-back
must be an all around player of the highest order. He must first of
all have a good head and be able to run off the plays of his team
without confusion. He must keep his head under the most trying
circumstances. He must watch for weak places in the opposing team and
direct the play of his men against them. He must offer encouragement
to his own team and be always on the alert to capture a fumbled ball,
stop a runner who has eluded the tacklers or to catch a punt that may
come within his reach. In nearly all the big college games the
quarter-back is one of the star players. The nature of his many duties
is such that he is forced to be a grand-stand player and to be
conspicuous even though he may not desire to. In running back punts
the quarter-back will often be used because he is sure in catching
them, which is a matter of the greatest importance. And all of this
work is required of a man who is usually the smallest, lightest man on
the team and who alongside of the giant guards and centre sometimes
looks like a pigmy. There is no higher honour in football than to be a
good all around quarter-back.
The half-backs are chosen because of their speed and their ability to
advance the ball and to elude the tackling of the opposing team. They
come in for Sport Clocks a very large share of the work and must be boys of
superior strength and agility.
Next to the quarter-back the player of the greatest importance is
full-back. His duty first of all is to attend to the kicking end of
the game. For that reason he must practise constantly both with punts
and drop kicks and be able to put the ball between the goal-posts from
all angles and distances within reason. A great many games are won by
a good drop kicker making a field goal at a critical time, and such a
man is of the highest value to a team. As drop kicking, like pitching
in baseball, comes largely from practice, the captain or manager of a
team should see to it that any member of his team who shows any
ability at all in this department should be given every opportunity
and encouragement to develop his skill. A good drop kicker can be used
temporarily from almost any position in the line, whether he be guard,
tackle or end. As a rule, however, the full-back is the player who
does most of the kicking. He must also be a good line bucker and be
able to gain the required distance when called upon.

It was so long ago that it stands out by itself

It was so long ago that it stands out by itself, a mere fragment of
memory, with _all_ beyond it a blank, and a wide gap out this side. It
is an isolated fact, fixed in my recollection by the pain it
occasioned me.”
“Your anecdote of the rabbits,” said the Doctor, “reminds me of a
story told of a Dutchman, who discovered an owl on a limb above him,
and noticed that its face, and great round eyes, followed him always
as he walked around the tree, without its body moving at all. Seeing
this he concluded in his wisdom, that he would travel round the tree,
till the owl twisted its head off in watching him. So round and round
he went for an hour, and stopped only by having the conviction forced
upon his mind that the owl had a swivel in its neck.”
“Strange,” remarked Spalding, “how the hearing of one story reminds us
of another. I always admired the Arabian Nights, because the stories
contained in that work hang together so like a string of onions, or a
braid of seed corn. The first is a sort of introduction to the second,
and the second an usher to the third, and so on through the whole. But
why the story of the Dutchman and the owl should remind me of another,
in which an old negro and a bellicose ram were the actors, is a Sporting Watches matter
I do not pretend to understand, unless it be the extreme absurdity of
both. A gentleman of my acquaintance long ago (he was a middle-aged
man when I was a small boy. He was an upright and a good man. He has
gone to his rest, and sleeps in an honored grave, having upon the
simple stone above him no lying epitaph), had an old negro who
rejoiced in the name of Pompey, and a Merino buck, the latter a
valiant animal, that was ready to fight with anybody, or anything,
that crossed his path. Between him and the colored person, was an
eternal distinction, an active and irreconcilable antagonism, that
developed itself on every possible occasion. The old Guinea man was
winnowing wheat one day, with an old-fashioned fan (did any of you
ever see one of these primitive machines for separating wheat from the
chaff, used by our fathers before the fanning mill was invented? It
was an ingenious contrivance, by which a man with a strong back and
of a strong constitution, could clean some twenty bushels in a single
day). While stooping over to fill his fan with unwinnowed grain, the
buck, taking advantage of his position, came like a catapult against
him, and sent him like a ball from a Paixhan gun, head foremost into
the chaff. Great was the astonishment, but greater the wrath of
Pompey, and dire the vengeance that he denounced against his
assailant. Gathering himself up, and rubbing the part battered by the
attack of his enemy, he retreated around the corner of the barn, and
procuring a rock weighing some twenty pounds, returned to the presence
of his foe, who was quietly eating the wheat that the negro had been
cleaning, evidently regarding it as the legitimate spoils of victory.

I knew a player who had an opportunity to get

I knew a player who had an opportunity to get back at an official, but
there was no rule to meet the situation. A penalty had been imposed,
because the player had used improper language. A heated argument
followed, and I am afraid the Umpire was guilty of a like offense, when
the player exclaimed:
“Well! Well! Why dont you penalize yourself?”
He surely was right. I should have been penalized.
One sometimes unconsciously fails to deal out a kindness for a courtesy
done. That was my experience in a Harvard-Yale game at Cambridge one
year. On the morning before the game, while I was at the Hotel Touraine,
I was making an earnest effort to get, what seemed almost impossible, a
seat for a friend of mine. I had finally purchased one for ten dollars,
and so made known the fact to two or three of my friends in the
corridor. About this time a tall, athletic, chap, who had heard that I
wanted an extra ticket, volunteered to get me one at the regular price,
which he succeeded in doing. I had no difficulty in returning my
speculators ticket. I thanked the fellow cordially for getting me the
ticket. I did not see him again until late that afternoon when the game
was nearly over. Some rough work in one of the scrimmages compelled me
to withdraw one of the Harvard players from the game. As I walked with
him to the side lines, I glanced at his face, only to recognize my
friend–the ticket producer. The umpires task then became harder than
ever, as I gave him a seat on the side line. That player was Vic
Kennard.
Evarts Wrenn, one of our foremost officials a few years ago, has had
some interesting experiences of his own.
“While umpiring a game between Michigan and Ohio State, at Columbus,” he
says, “Heston, Michigans fullback, carrying the ball, broke through the
line, was tackled and thrown; recovered his feet, started again, was
tackled and thrown again, threw off his tacklers only to be thrown
again. Again he broke away. All this time I was backing up in front of
the play. As Heston broke away from the last tacklers, I backed suddenly
into the outstretched arms of the Ohio State fullback, who, it appears,
had been backing up step by step with me. Heston ran thirty yards for a
touchdown. You can imagine how unpopular I was with the home team, and
how ridiculous my plight appeared.
“Another instance occurred in a Chicago-Cornell game at Marshall
Field,” Wrenn goes on to say. “You know it always seems good to an
official to get through a game without having to make any disagreeable
decisions. I was congratulating myself on having got through this game
so fortunately. As I was hurrying off the field, I was stopped by the
little Cornell trainer, who had been very much in evidence on the side
lines during the game. He called to me.
“Mr. Wrenn (and I straightened, chucking out my chest and getting my
hand ready for congratulations). That was the —- —- piece of
umpiring I ever saw in my life. I cannot describe my feelings. I was
standing there with my mouth open when he had got yards away.”
Dan Hurley, who was captain of the 1904 Harvard team, writes me, as
follows:
“Football rules are changed from year to year. The causes of these
changes are usually new points which have arisen the year previous
during football games. A good many rules are interpreted according to
the judgment of each individual official. I remember two points that
arose in the Harvard-Penn game in 1904, at Soldiers Field. In this
year there was great rivalry between the players representing Harvard
and Pennsylvania. The contest was sharp and bitterly fought all the way
through. Both teams had complained frequently to Edwards, the Umpire.
Finally he caught two men red-handed, so to speak. There was no
argument. Both men admitted it. It so happened that both men were very
valuable to their respective teams. The loss of either man would be
greatly felt. Both captains cornered Edwards and both agreed that he was
perfectly right in his contention that both men should have to leave the
field, but–and it was this that caused the new rule to be enforced the
Stan Skates next year. Both captains suggested that they were perfectly willing for
both men to remain in the game despite the penalty, and with eager faces
both captains watched Edwards face as he pondered whether he should or
should not permit them to remain in the game. He did, however, allow
both to play. Of course, this ruling was establishing a dangerous
precedent; therefore, the next year the Rules Committee incorporated a
new rule to the effect that two captains of opposing teams could not by
mutual agreement permit a player who ought to be removed for committing
a foul to remain in the game.”

Football plays a valued part in the athletic life of West Point

Football plays a valued part in the athletic life of West Point. From
the very first game between the Army and the Navy on the plains when the
Middies were victorious, West Point set out in a thoroughly businesslike
way to see that the Navy did not get the lions share of victories.
If one studies the businesslike methods of the Army Athletic Association
and reads carefully the bulletins Fake Bono Streets New York City which are printed after each game, one
is impressed by the attention given to details.
I have always appreciated what King, 96, meant to West Point football.
Let me quote from the publication of the _Howitzer_, in 1896, the
estimated value of this player at that time:
“King, of course, stands first. Captain for two years he brought West
Point from second class directly into first. As fullback he outplayed
every fullback opposed to him and stands in the judgment of all
observers second only to Brooke of Pennsylvania. Let us read what King
has to say of a period of West Point football not widely known.
“I first played on the 92 team,” he says. “We had two Navy games before
this, but they were not much as I look back upon them. At this time we
had for practice that period of Saturday afternoon after inspection.
That gave us from about 3 P. M. on. We also had about fifteen
minutes between dinner and the afternoon recitations, and such days as
were too rainy to drill, and from 5:45 A. M., to 6:05 A. M.
Later in the year when it grew too cold to drill, we had the
time after about 4:15 P. M., but it became dark so early that
we didnt get much practice. We practiced signals even by moonlight.
“Visiting teams used to watch us at inspection, two oclock. We were in
tight full dress clothes, standing at attention for thirty to forty-five
minutes just before the game. A fine preparation for a stiff contest. We
had quite a character by the name of Stacy, a Maine boy. He was a
thickset chap, husky and fast. He never knew what it was to be stopped.
He would fight it out to the end for every inch. Early in one of the
Yale games he broke a rib and started another, but the more it hurt, the
harder he played. In a contest with an athletic club in the last
non-collegiate game we ever played, the opposing right tackle was
bothering us. In a scrimmage Stacy twisted the gentlemans nose very
severely and then backed away, as the man followed him, calling out to
the Umpire. Stacy held his face up and took two of the nicest punches in
the eyes that I ever saw. Of course, the Umpire saw it, and promptly
ruled the puncher out, just as Stacy had planned.
“Just before the Spanish War Stacy became ill. Orders were issued that
regiments should send officers to the different cities for the purpose
of recruiting. He was at this time not fit for field service, so was
assigned to this duty. He protested so strongly that in some way he was
able to join his regiment in time to go to Cuba with his men. He
participated in all the work down there; and when it was over, even he
had to give in. He was sent to Montauk Point in very bad shape. He
rallied for a time and obtained sick leave. He went to his old home in
Maine, where he died. It was his old football grit that kept him going
in Cuba until the fighting was over.
“No mention of West Points football would be complete without the name
of Dennis Michie. He is usually referred to as the Father of Football
at the Academy. He was captain of the first two teams we ever had. He
played throughout the Navy game in 91 with ten boils on his back and
neck. He was a backfield man and one of West Points main line backers.
He was most popular as a cadet and officer and was killed in action at
San Juan, Cuba.
“One of the longest runs when both yards and time are considered ever
pulled off on a football field, was made by Duncan, 95, in our
Princeton game of 93. Duncan got the ball on his 5-yard line on a
fumble, and was well under way before he was discovered. Lott, 96,
later a captain of Cavalry, followed Duncan to interfere from behind.
The only Princeton man who sensed trouble was Doggy Trenchard. He set
sail in pursuit. He soon caught up with Lott and would have caught
Duncan, but for the latters interference. Duncan finally scored the
touchdown, having made the 105 yards in what would have been fast time
for a Wefers.
“We at West Point often speak of Balliets being obliged to call on Phil
King to back him up that day, as Ames, one of our greatest centres, was
outplaying him, and of the rage of Phil King, because on every point,
Nolan, 96, tackled him at once and prevented King from making those
phenomenal runs which characterized his playing.”

I otherwise should have done

I otherwise should have done. You are welcome to my share of the
glory.”
“Spoken like a liberal and free-hearted gentleman,” said
Smith. “Well, Doctor, name the amount and nature of the blackmail you
intend to levy upon me. But have a conscience, man! have a
conscience!”
“It will be making a great sacrifice on my part,” the Doctor replied,
“but out of friendship for you, Ill make you a proposition. Well
toss op a dollar, and the one that wins shall have the honour of
having killed the bear, and of telling the story in his own way, and
the others shall indorse it.”
“Agreed,” said Smith, “but if you win, I shall have to borrow a
conscience of Spalding, or some other lawyer, for therell be need of
a pretty elastic one.”
“Yours will answer, I think,” drily remarked Spalding.
“It appears to me, gentlemen,” said I “that Ive something to say
about the killing of that bear.”
“You,” exclaimed the Doctor, “what had you to do with it, pray? There
stands your rifle, with the same ball in it that you placed there this
morning. You havent discharged your rifle to-day.”
“Notwithstanding that,” I replied, “I am entitled to a portion of the
glory, as I am chargeable with my share of the responsibility, of
killing the bear. I was one of the first who discovered him; I was
among the foremost in the pursuit; I was present, aiding and advising
in the manner of the killing; I had my weapon in my hand, and was
restrained from using it, only because you might fail to accomplish
what my reserved bullet would have made secure. Now, if this bear had
been human, and we were accused Mattia & Greta of killing him, I would be regarded
in the eye of the law as equally guilty with you. I appeal to Spalding
if this is not so?”
“H—-is right,” replied Spalding, as he sent a column of smoke
wreathing upward from his lips. “Such is the law.”
“We must buy this fellow off, Smith,” said the Doctor, “we must buy
him off. Hes an old hunter, known as such, and hell take to himself
all the glory; and what is worse, the world will believe him. Hell
spread himself beyond all bounds. Hell shine beyond endurance upon
the strength of this bear. We must buy him off. It is against all
conscience, but there is no help for it. We must buy him off. Theres
an impudence in this claim which reminds me of an anecdote related
by Noah.”
“By Noah?” asked Smith, interrupting him, “Noah who?”
“What ignorance there is in this world, even in these days of
educational enlightenment!” remarked the Doctor to Spalding and
myself. “Now, here is a decently informed gentleman, claiming to be a

In this matter of cleanliness we have certainly

In this matter of cleanliness we have certainly improved upon the
habits of our forefathers: dirty cottages are the exception, and not
the rule, as they were in the days of “good Queen Bess”; and the
absence of those terrible plagues which used to devastate our land
in former times is due in a great measure to the improved
cleanliness and more careful regard for sanitation by the people of
England.
CHAPTER VIII.
AUGUST.
“Crowned with the ears of corn, now come,
And to the pipe sing harvest home.
Come forth, my lord, and see the cart
Dressed up with all the country art:
The horses, mares, and frisking fillies
Clad all in linen white as lilies.
The harvest 40 More Hot Hockey Players (with Your Requests) swains and wenches bound
For joy, to see the hock-cart crowned.”
HERRICKS _Hesperides_.
Lammas Day–St. Rochs Day–Harvest-home–”Ten-pounding”–
Sheep-shearing–”Wakes”–Fairs.
The harvest fields have begun to ripen, and the corn will soon be
ready for the sickle; of this fact our forefathers were reminded by
the Lammas Festival, which was celebrated on the first of this
month. _Lammas_ is a shortened form of the word Loaf-mass, or feast
of the loaf. A loaf of bread was made of the first-ripe corn, and
used in Holy Communion on this day; so this feast was a preliminary
harvest thanksgiving festival–a feast of “first-fruits,” such as
the Jews were commanded in the old Mosaic law to observe.
When the harvest was gathered in there were great festivities, and
it has been thought that August 16th, St. Rochs Day, was generally
observed as the harvest-home. St. Roch, or Roque, was a Frenchman,
who lived in the early part of the fourteenth century, and was
supposed to have performed miraculous cures, but August 16th seems
to have been rather early in the year for a harvest-home. However,
when the feast of ingathering did take place, there were great
rejoicings in our English villages, and the mode of its celebration
helped to knit together the masters and labourers, and to promote
good feeling between them.
When the fields were almost cleared of the golden grain, the last
few sheaves were decorated with flowers and ribbons, and brought
home in a waggon, called the “Hock-cart,” while the labourers, their
wives and children, carrying green boughs, sheaves of wheat and rude
flags, formed a glad procession. All the pipes and tabors in the
village sounded, and shouts of laughter and of song were raised as
the glad procession marched along. They sang–
“Harvest-home, harvest-home,
We have ploughed, we have sowed,
We have reaped, we have mowed,
We have brought home every load.
Hip, hip, hip, harvest-home!”
or, as they say in Berkshire–
“Whoop, whoop, whoop, harvest whoam!”

At Easter the local favourite sport was renewed

At Easter the local favourite sport was renewed with zest and
eagerness, and almost everywhere foot-races were run, the prize of
the conqueror being a tansy-cake. Stoolball and barley-brake were
also favourite games in this month, as Poor Robin says in his
_Almanack_ for 1677. Barley-brake seems to have been a very merry
game, in which the ladies took part, and of which we find some very
bright descriptions in the writings of some old English poets. The
only science of the pastime consisted in one couple trying with
“waiting foot and watchful eye” to catch the others and bear them
off as captives.
An old writer thus describes a water tournament, which seems to have
been a popular pastime among the youths of London at Easter–”They
fight battels on the water. A shield is hanged upon a pole (this is
a kind of quintain) fixed in the midst of the stream. A boat is
prepared without oars, to be carried by the violence of the water,
and in the fore-part thereof standeth a young man ready to give
charge upon the shield with his lance. If so be he break his lance
against the shield, and do not fall, he is thought to have performed
a worthy deed. If so be that, without breaking his lance, he runneth
strongly against the shield, down he falleth into the water, for the
boat is violently tossed with the tide; but on each side of the
shield ride two boats furnished with young men, which recover him
that falleth as soon as they may. Upon the bridge, wharves, and
houses by the river-side, stand great numbers to see and laugh
thereat.” Stow thus describes the water tournament–”I have seen
also in the summer season, upon the river Thames, some rowed in
wherries, with staves in their hands, flat at the fore-end, Sjs Enterprise Sc Vill Paintball Categorin In San Clemente Ca running
one against the other; and for the most part, one or both of them
were overthrown and well ducked.” This sport on the water was a
variety of the famous quintain, which was itself derived from the
jousts or tournaments, only, instead of a human adversary, the
knight or squire, riding on a horse, charged a shield or wooden
figure attached to a piece of wood, which easily turned round upon
the top of a post. At the other end of the wood was a heavy bag of
sand, which, when the rider struck the shield with his lance, swung
round and struck him with great force on the back if he did not ride
fast and so escape his ponderous foe. There were other forms of this
sport, which is so ancient that its origin has been lost in
antiquity. Queen Elizabeth was very much amused at Kenilworth Castle
by the hard knocks which the inexpert riders received from the
rotating sand-bag when they charged “a comely quintane” in her royal
presence in the year 1575.

CHAPTER XXI THE ANTIDOTE IS ADMINISTERED

CHAPTER XXI
THE “ANTIDOTE” IS ADMINISTERED
[Illustration]
High up against a fair blue sky studded with fleecy clouds streamed a
banner of royal purple bearing in its center a great white E–a flare of
intense color visible from afar over the topmost branches of the empty
elms, and a beacon toward which the stream of spectators set their
steps. In the tower of College Hall the old bell struck two oclock, and
the throngs at the gates of Erskine Field moved faster, swaying and
pushing past the ticket-takers and streaming out onto the field toward
the big stands already piled high with laughing, chattering humanity.
Under the great flag stretched a long bank of somber grays and black
splashed thickly with purple, looking from a little distance as though
the big banner had dripped its dye Disneyland Resort Categorin In Anaheim Ca on to the multitude beneath.
Opposite, the rival tiers of crowded seats were pricked out lavishly
with the rich but less brilliant brown, while at the end of the
enclosure, where the throngs entered, a smaller stand flaunted the two
colors in almost equal proportions.
And between stretched a smooth expanse of russet-hued turf ribbed with
white lines that glared in the afternoon sunlight.
The college band, augmented for the occasion from the ranks of the
village musicians, played blithely; some twelve thousand persons talked,
laughed, or shouted ceaselessly; and the cheering sections were loudly
contending for vocal supremacy. And suddenly on to this scene trotted a
little band of men in black sweaters with purple Es, nice new canvas
trousers, and purple and black stockings; and just as suddenly the north
stand arose and the Robinson cheers were blotted out by a mighty chorus
that swept from end to end of the structure and thundered impressively
across the field:
“_Erskine! Erskine! Erskine! Rah-rah-rah, rah-rah-rah, rah-rah-rah!
Erskine! Erskine! Erskine!_”
It was repeated over and over, and might, perhaps, have been sounding
yet had not the Robinson players, sturdy, brown-clad youths, ambled onto
the field. Then it was Robinsons turn to make a noise, and she made it;
theres no doubt about that.
“_Rah-rah-rah! Robinson! Rah-rah-rah! Robinson! Rah-rah-rah! Robinson!
Robinson! Robinson!_”