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 The little half-back was pale, his teeth were showing, and he continually licked his lips and rubbed his nose on the sleeve of his jersey.

Hart dove for the ball as it came bounding toward him, and fell on it. A short distance away a Yale man did the same thing, and rolled over and over, and got to his feet Yale-fashion, somehow. The full-backs were making practice drop-kicks and punts, and the crowd was howling indiscriminately. Young men with badges and walking-sticks appeared on the edges of the field. But soon there came a silence, then the flash of a coin, and Princeton won the toss, taking the westward goal with the wind behind them, and giving Yale the ball.

"On your toes, there, everybody!" cried Elliott. "They're going to try our old flying wedge, Buck. Get into them! Look out, you end rushers!" He blew into his hands as if his fingers were being frost-bitten.

A shrill whistle, and down came the charge of the men in blue. The game was on! Hart felt as though he weighed a thousand pounds. He plunged forward, and was first to meet the crush of legs, and arms, and bodies. It rolled over him like a sea, and underneath him,