"Down there, back of those boys, Carolyn!" called Peggy, who knew as well as Carolyn the "strategic point" that they wanted to reach if no one were ahead of them in securing it. "First come, first served here, you know, Betty," Peggy added, hopping from one high step to another in a short cut.

Carolyn was spreading newspapers and holding them to keep them from being blown away in the slight breeze. "Sit on 'em in a hurry," she laughingly urged, and settled herself on the further one, next to two of the teachers, who were spreading out a steamer rug. "Sensible girl,"

said one, smiling down at Carolyn. "Is your coat warm enough?"

"Yes, Miss Heath, and we have on our sweaters beside. Peggy and I nearly froze at the University stadium last week, so we bundled up this time.

Did you see the game with State, Miss Heath?"

"Indeed I did."

"Good for you," chuckled Carolyn. "You like athletics, don't you?"

"Very muchwhen some one else does it."

"But _you_ wouldn't have time," suggested Carolyn. This was the Miss Heath whom all the girls liked so much, girls of any rank from freshmen to seniors. She was always fair, though you had to work for her. No "getting by" with poorly prepared lessons.

"No," a.s.sented the adorable Miss Heath, "I'd have no time, not even for setting up exercises." She looked at her teacher friend, a lady from the rival school, and laughed. "What do you think, Carolyn, would it be polite for me to sing with you our school songs or do any rooting for Lyon High when my friend from our rivals' school is sitting right by me?

By the way, Miss March, this is Carolyn Gwynne, one of our freshmen. You know the Gwynne place, out on Marsden Road?"

"Oh, yes, quite well. How do you do, Carolyn. I think I have met you at your home. I belong to a club that met there last year."

Carolyn said the appropriate remarks in reply and was fortunately not obliged to decide what was the polite course for Miss Heath to follow.

So far as she was concerned, no scruples would have prevented her enthusiasm for Lyon High, for the good reason that Carolyn forgot everything but the game when the contest was on.

Peggy, and Betty, too, third in order from the teachers, leaned around Carolyn to bow in friendly and respectful fashion, but at once they gave their attention to the crowd and the field. On the track a few runners were practicing, their costume looking very cool for the chilly fall breezes. A few boys were standing about on the field or central "gridiron."

Betty filled her lungs with the fresh air that was not blowing too sharply. She was accustomed to the curving concrete that rose high behind her and stretched to right and left, to the field before her and to the gymnastic or athletic performances that had seemed so queer at first because of the larger numbers and the better equipment. By this time, too, she knew the team, its best members and what they were likely to do, though in the confusion of the game it was sometimes hard for her to recognize a play.

As the game was with a city school today, there were as many or almost as many rooters for the visiting team as Lyon High itself could offer.

As the seats filled rapidly, compet.i.tion between rooters began. Rival bands with tooting horns and rolling drums made a dramatic appearance, paraded, and finally took position. Rival yell leaders led rival cheer, though Lyon High, trained by its athletic director to good sportsmanship, gave a complimentary yell or two for its guests, using their own battle cries or merely giving hearty rah-rahs for the rival school and team.

Then the pandemonium was at its height when the teams ran out upon the field and the excited youngsters on the stadium seats rose and shouted their greetings. Betty stood and waved and gave the yells with the rest.

She might not have been long in Lyon High, but she was a part of it now!

It was her school! There! That was Freddy Fisher, upon whose plays so much depended. There went that mysterious tall boy that somebody said came from Switzerland and somebody else said was a Russian. My, but he was an active chap! He was almost as good as Freddy, Chet Dorrance had told Betty, but he didn't always understand the signals and occasionally the team was penalized for something that he did either accidentally or on purpose. "He's a hot one when he's mad," said Chet, "and I guess he still thinks in his own language, whatever that is, though he likes to play and learn all the new signals pretty quick, the coach says."

"Peggy, there is your hero," laughed Carolyn.

"Who?" inquired Peggy.

"The 'Don.'"

"Oh, yes. I did say that he deserved as much glory as Freddy for that last game, didn't I? He gave such fine interference."

"The 'Don'?" inquired Betty, puzzled.

"They have him Spanish now, Betty. He's been Russian, German, Hungarian and I don't know what all and I think the boys like to tease us girls by making up something new about him all the time. But isn't he sort of handsome?"

"I'd hate to say, Peggy, if you like his looks," countered Betty.

"Betty likes them fixed up and awfully clean, like Ted Dorrance, Peggy,"

mischievously said Carolyn.

Betty flushed a little, but smiled. "I have a brother, girls. He's better now, but time was when d.i.c.k would just as lief never wash from 'early morn till dewy eve' as Father used to say. 'Aw, what was the use of washing before breakfast when you had to wash right after it?'" Betty gave a comical imitation of d.i.c.k's tones.

"So after a.s.sisting in rounding up d.i.c.k to be washed and being embarra.s.sed more than once by his grimy looks, it's no wonder if I like 'em clean at least. But I suppose I went through that time of hating to be washed myself."

"I doubt it, Betty," answered Carolyn. "I think you are always dainty, if you ask me."

But now the time of the contest was at hand. More excitement and cheers called for the attention of the rooters to duty. They yelled for their own teams now, under the frantic leadership of active yell-leaders. The Lions' little mascot, arrayed in his mask of a lion's head and a suit as tawny as the coat of the biggest lion in the "Zoo," ran up and down, waving large paws and trailing a long ta.s.seled tail.

"Lions, rah!

Rah-rah-rah-rah, Lions!

Eeney, meeney, money mi, Lions win when they half try-- Eeney meeney money mi, Chew'em-up! Chew'em-up! _Lions_"

(Roar)

The influence of the living models at the Zoological Gardens, on whose fearsome roars many of these high school pupils had been, figuratively speaking, brought up, made this characteristic roar, with which many of Lyon High yells closed, very realistic. It had been with a mixture of startled surprise, amus.e.m.e.nt and admiration that Betty, Doris and d.i.c.k had first heard it that fall. But now even Amy Lou tried to imitate it.

"Hickity, rickity, spickity jig!

Zippity soom and lickity rig!

The Lions are loose, Get out of the way!

They'll romp to the finish.

And Capture the Day Gr-rr-rr--LIONS"

Another favorite yell was both prefaced and ended with a student roar from the Lyon High part of the stadium. It was short and vigorous:

"Lions! Lions!

And they're not tame!

Go it, Lions, And _win that game!_"

Some unexplained delay gave time for a brief rendering of a short high school song. "Make it peppy!" called the leader, "one stanza and a yell for the team!"

This closed the preliminaries and in a tense stillness on the part of the spectators the game began. From the first it was exciting, for the teams were well matched. "Now let the Lions Roar," was balanced by "Now let the Eagles Scream," in several good plays by each in the first quarter.

The Eagles kicked off but lost their advantage almost at once. For a little the struggle resulted in little gain for either side. A trick kick failed. Line plays gained little. Both teams resorted to punting and the Lions gained some yardage. Betty, Carolyn and Peggy shared some tense moments when the Eagles' quarterback made a good ran of thirty-five yards before he was pulled down by Peggy's new hero, the "Don," who came in for much cheering from Lyon High rooters.

"Oh," said Peggy, sitting back weakly, "I thought he was going to make a touchdown! How did he get away?"

"I don't know," answered Carolyn, "but he's a smart player, the best they have. He's Bess Pickett's brother, you know."

"He _ought_ to be somebody, then," replied Peggy. "What a pity he doesn't go to Lyon!"

"We don't need him," proudly said Carolyn. "Wait and see Freddy Fisher wiggle and twist out of" but Carolyn did not finish her sentence for interest in what was going on. She was, however, a true prophetess, for as the quarter was drawing near its end, their Freddy caught an Eagles'

punt on his own ten-yard line and raced through the entire Eagles' team for a touchdown, almost caught several times, while the excited spectators stood and shouted.

"Get-that-man! Catch him! Catch him!" called the Eagles.

"Look out, Freddy! Go it! Get there!" shouted the Lyon High rooters. "A touchdown Freddy! Atta-boy!"

The Lyon High band struck up a victorious strain, while Freddy, once more the conquering hero, lay upon his ball to get his breath.