Part 46 (1/2)
”Oh, they'll make good, all right; don't worry,” spoke Kindlings confidently. ”Bean Perkins has a lot of new songs to cheer 'em with, and then with the band playing, our colors flying, the crowd yelling, and the girls looking pretty, why, we can't lose.”
”Cross your fingers,” murmured Holly superst.i.tiously, with a short laugh. ”Cross your fingers, Dan, old man.”
”All up!” sung out Dutch Housenlager, as the autos came rolling up to the gymnasium. ”All up, fellows. It's do or die, now.”
”All ready!” yelled Bean Perkins. ”A last cheer before we meet 'em at the grounds, fellows.”
The cheer came with resounding energy, and when it had died away, some one called for ”_Aut Vincere, Aut Mori!_” ”Either We Conquer, or we Die!”
The sweetly solemn strains of the Latin song rang out over the campus, as the competing team rolled away in the autos, waving their hands at their fellows.
”Hang it all, it seems like a funeral!” murmured Sid.
”Cut that out, you heathen!” ordered Phil, thumping his chum on the back.
”Feeling nervous?” asked Frank of Tom, to whom he sat next in the big car, for, though the Big Californian was not to compete, he rode with his chums.
”Just a little. I'm always thinking that I'll slip, or--something----”
”Let the other fellow do the worrying,” suggested Frank, and it was good advice.
It was not a long ride to Tonoka Park, and when the autos containing the athletes came in sight of it, the lads saw the grounds gay in colors, while a big throng was already on hand. The strains of a band could be heard, and there were cheers and songs, for the crowds from Boxer Hall and Fairview were already in evidence.
”My! There's a mob!” remarked Tom, as they swung up to the part of the field set apart for them.
”And look at the girls!” added Phil, as he waved his hand toward a section of the grandstand where the maids of Fairview were gathered.
”Will we have time to see 'em before we dress?” asked Sid.
”Oh, you'll make it, whether you have or not,” retorted Frank. ”You're getting it bad.”
”Dry up!” ordered Sid sententiously.
They left their suit cases in the dressing rooms a.s.signed to them, and started across the field toward the stand where they hoped to see Ruth Clinton and her chums.
As they walked along Tom started, and stared toward a section of the crowd.
”What's up?” asked Phil.
”I--I thought I saw Shambler,” spoke Tom in a low voice.
”Nonsense! He wouldn't dare show his face here,” said Phil.
”I guess not,” agreed Tom, and he dismissed the matter.
”Here we are!” cried Ruth, as she spied her brother and his friends.
”And we haven't got your colors, either.”