Page:Barbour--Captain Chub.djvu/23

Rh were tucked inside wilting collars.

Half-way up the cheering section sat a little group of freshmen, hot and excited, hoarse and heroic. At every fresh demand from the cheerleader they strained their tired lungs to new excesses of sound. Now, panting and laughing, they fell against each other in simulated exhaustion.

“I wish a thunder-storm would come along,” said one of the group, weakly.

“Why?” asked another.

“So they’d call the game and I wouldn’t have to cheer any more,” he sighed.

“Why don’t you do the way Chick does?” asked a third. “Chick just opens his mouth and goes through the motions and doesn’t let out a single yip.”

“I like that!” exclaimed the maligned one. “I’ve been making more noise than all the rest of you put together. The leader’s been casting grateful looks at me for an hour.”

There was a howl of derision from the others.

“Well,” said a tall, broad-shouldered fellow, “I don’t intend to yell any more until something happens, and—”