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The day of the great contest had arrived.  It was the 15th of August, the day on which Oakwood celebrated the one hundred and seventieth anniversary of its founding.  An elaborate celebration had been prepared, with parades and pageants in the daytime, and fireworks and a sham battle at night.  The military drill contest had been a part of this celebration, that Oakwood’s victory over Hillsdale might have a more spectacular setting.  Oakwood was making much more of an occasion out of that contest than the Winnebagos had expected and their sporting blood began to tingle.  The thought of winning before all that crowd thrilled them through and through.

Agony was in a high feather.  Hers was a nature which expanded in the limelight; crowded audiences inspired her to outdo herself instead of “fussing” her as they did Oh-Pshaw.  She could hardly wait for their hour to strike.

The contest was at five in the afternoon, after the parade and before the evening’s program of fireworks.  At four o’clock the Hillsdale delegation drove into town in hayracks decorated with flags and bunting, the troop of Girl Scouts who were going to drill in the first rack, and after them several racks full of Hillsdale girls and boys, coming to watch the contest.

“There they come!” whispered the Oakwood girls to each other, and the thrill of the coming struggle began to go through them at the sight of their adversaries.

“Oh, I’m afraid I’m going to make a mistake!” said Oh-Pshaw, turning quite cold.  “I’ll never get through that field formation wheel, I know.”

“You will not make a mistake,” said Agony emphatically.  “Don’t think about the audience, just think about that trip to Washington we’re going to get, and keep cool.  I don’t see what you’re so excited for anyway.  I’m not a bit scared.”  Then she added, “How are you ever going to be a Torch Bearer if you can’t keep cool?” It was a home thrust, and Agony knew it.  Oh-Pshaw wanted to be a Torch Bearer more than anything else and she considered this occasion a test of her fitness.  She must not get rattled!

The contest took place on Commons Field.  A tent had been set up on either end of the field for the use of the people in the pageant, and the two drill companies used these tents as points of entry upon the drill grounds, forming their squads inside.  The judges, who were three military men belonging neither to Oakwood nor Hillsdale, sat half way up the hill overlooking the center of the grounds.  The Hillsdales, being the visitors, were given the privilege of drilling first.

The Oakwood girls looked on critically as their rivals marched out on the field and began their maneuvers.  The Hillsdale supporters began to cheer and kept it up incessantly.  The spirits of the Oakwood girls rose as they watched.  The Hillsdale Scouts did their steps perfectly, they had to admit, but they lacked “pep.”  The Winnebagos knew they could put a dash into their performance that would beat this mere mechanical perfection all hollow.  Their nervousness left them; the music of the band, the presence of the crowd, the sight of themselves in their natty white uniforms had gone to their heads like wine.  They were inspired; they could hardly wait to get out on the drill grounds; they knew they would march as they had never marched before.