A minute later the half ended.  When the next one began Paul Gale went in at left half-back on the varsity.  And Neil, trotting to the locker-house, told himself that he was glad, awfully glad, and wished the tears wouldn’t come into his eyes.

CHAPTER XIX

ON THE EVE OF BATTLE

Neil was duly pronounced “fine” by the trainer, dosed by the doctor, and disregarded by the coaches.  Mills, having finally concluded that he was too risky a person for the line-up on Saturday, figuratively labeled him “declined” and passed him over to Tassel, head coach of the second eleven.  Tassel displayed no enthusiasm, for a good player gone “fine” is at best a poor acquisition, and of far less practical value than a poor player in good condition.  It made little difference to Neil what team he belonged to, for he was prohibited from playing on Wednesday, and on Thursday the last practise took place and he was in the line-up but five minutes.  On that day the students again marched to the field and practised their songs and cheers.  Despite the loss of Cowan and the lessening thereby of Erskine’s chance of success, enthusiasm reigned high.  Perhaps their own cheers raised their spirit, for two days before the game the college was animated by a totally unwarranted degree of hopefulness that amounted almost to confidence.  The coaches, however, remained carefully pessimistic and took pains to see that the players did not share the general hopefulness.

“We may win,” said Mills to them after the last practise, “but don’t think for a moment that it’s going to be easy.  If we do come out on top it will be because every one of you has played as he never dreamed he could play.  You’ve got to play your own positions perfectly and then help to play each other’s.  Remember what I’ve said about team-play.  Don’t think that your work is done when you’ve put your man out; that’s the time for you to turn around and help your neighbor.  It’s just that eagerness to aid the next man, that stand-and-fall-together spirit, that makes the ideal team.  I don’t want to see any man on Saturday standing around with his hands at his sides; as long as the ball’s in play there’s work for every one.  Don’t cry ‘Down’ until you can’t run, crawl, wriggle, roll, or be pulled another inch.  And if you’re helping the runner don’t stop pulling or shoving until there isn’t another notch to be gained.  Never mind how many tacklers there are; the ball’s in play until the whistle sounds.  And, one thing more, remember that you’re not going to do your best because I tell you to, or because if you don’t the coaches will give you a wigging, or because a lot of your fellows are looking on.  You’re going to fight your hardest, fight until the last whistle blows, fight long after you can’t fight any more, because you’re wearing the Purple of old Erskine and can’t do anything else but fight!”

The cheer that followed was good to hear.  There was not a fellow there that didn’t feel, at that moment, more than a match for any two men Robinson could set up against him.  And many a hand clenched involuntarily, and many a player registered his silent vow to fight, as Mills had said, long after he couldn’t fight any more, and, if it depended on him, win the game for old Erskine.