Events passed at an amazing speed for the next few days.  Clint moved at times in a waking dream, and Amy, tapping his head significantly, spoke to him soothingly and hoped that the trouble would not prove permanent.  Clint had a way of suddenly waking, at the most inopportune moments, to the fact that he was due to play left tackle on the Brimfield Football Team against Claflin School in a few days, and when he did he invariably experienced an appalling sick feeling at the pit of his stomach and became for the moment incapable of speech or action.  When this occurred in class during, say, a faltering elucidation of the Iliad, it produced anything but a favourable impression on the instructor.  Fortunately, while actually engaged in out-guessing Lee, of the second, or breaking through the none too vulnerable Pryme, or racing down the field under one of Harris’s punts, he had no time to think of it and so was spared the mortification of suspended animation at what would have been a most unfortunate time.  His appetite became decidedly capricious.  And the capriciousness increased as Saturday drew near.  Also, the sinking sensations to which he had become a prey attacked him more often.  He drove Amy to despair by predicting all sorts of direful things.  He was sure that he wouldn’t be able to do anything with Terrill, the Claflin right end.  He was morally certain that he was going to disgrace himself and the school.  He was even inclined to think, rather hopefully, as it seemed to Amy, that he would be taken violently ill before Saturday.

“You’ll make me ill!” declared Amy.  “Honest, Clint, you talk like a demented duck!  Buck up!  What’s the matter with you?  Anyone would think you were going to be hung Saturday instead of play football!”

“I almost wish I were,” murmured Clint dejectedly.

But if Clint was troubled with forebodings, not so the school at large.  Enthusiastic mass-meetings were held alternate evenings and the new songs were rehearsed and the cheers which were to bring terror to the enemy were thundered with a mighty zest.  Brimfield refused to even consider defeat.  Parades became a frequent proceeding.  By Wednesday it was only necessary for a fellow to step out on The Row and shout “Brimfield!” to have a procession form almost instantly!

The last practice took place Wednesday afternoon and for a solid forty-five minutes the ’varsity did its level best to totally annihilate the second team, and almost succeeded.  Things went with a most encouraging bang that day.  Even Coach Robey was seen to smile, which, during practice, was a most extraordinary thing for him to do.  The ’varsity had to work for what it got, but got it.  Three touchdowns and a field-goal was the sum of its attainment, while the second, fighting fiercely, managed to push Otis over for a score in the third period.  Afterward the second cheered the ’varsity, was heartily cheered in return and then trotted back to the gymnasium no longer existent as a team.