The game was held in the Washington High gymnasium.  The gallery and all available floor space were packed long before the commencement of the game.  The Carnegie Mechanics came out in a body to witness their team win the championship.  Joe Lanning was there, entirely composed, though inwardly raging at the failure of his trick, which he attributed to Dick’s changing his mind about walking home, never dreaming that Sahwah had intercepted his message and his treachery was known.  Although his sympathies were with the Mechanicals he stood with the Washingtons and yelled their yells as loudly as any.  The Mechanicals, as the visiting, team, came out on the floor first and had the first practice.  They were fine looking girls, every one of them, with their dazzling white middies and blue ties.  They were greeted with a ringing cheer from their rooters: 

“Me-chan-i, Me-chan-i, Me-chan-i-can-can, Me-chan-i-can-can, Me-chan-i-cals!”

Marie Lanning held up her head and looked self-conscious when she heard the familiar yell thundered at the team.  It was meant mostly for herself, she was sure.  She smiled proudly and graciously in the direction whence the yell had proceeded.  Quiet had hardly fallen on the crowd when there was heard the sound of singing from the upper end of the gymnasium where the door to the dressing rooms was.  The tune was “Old Black Joe”: 

  “We’re coming, we’re coming,
  Star players, every one,
  We’re going to win the championship
  For Washington!”

Washington’s rooters caught up the yell and made the roof ring.  Sahwah’s heart swelled when she heard it, not with the feeling that they were singing to her, but with pride because she belonged to a team which called out this expression of loyalty.  Then came individual cheers, with her name at the head of the list.

  “One, two, three, four,
  Who are we for? 
  BREWSTER!”

Not even then was Sahwah puffed up.

The Washington High team wore black bloomers and red ties; they were a brilliant sight as they marched in with their hands on each other’s shoulders.  The teams took their places; a hush fell on the crowd; the referee’s whistle sounded; the ball went up.  Washington’s center knocked it toward her basket; Sahwah, darting out from under the basket, caught it, sent it flying back to center; center threw it to the other Washington forward; Sahwah jumped directly behind Marie Lanning, received the ball from the other forward and shot the basket.  Time, one minute from the sending up of the ball.  The Washington team machine was working splendidly.  A deafening roar greeted the first score.  Marie bit her lip angrily.  She had vowed to keep Washington from scoring.  But Sahwah had not watched Marie play for nothing.  She saw that she put up a wonderful guard when confronting her girl, but she was not always quick in turning around.  Sahwah’s plan