There! I can't mark it on the map, but if you have ever worried a college faculty you'll know the way.
Twenty-five yards with four Muggledorfer men hanging on his legs _Frontispiece_
"Aye ent care to stop," he said. "Aye kent suit you, Master Bost" 20
He pulled himself together and touched Ole gently 26
There wasn't a college anywhere around us that didn't have Ole's hoofmarks all over its pride 33
"Har's das spy!" he yelled. "Kill him, fallers; he ban a spy!" 120
We spent another five minutes hoisting him aboard a prehistoric plug 125
He may have been fat, but how he could run! 132
He was so bashful that his voice blushed when he used it 151
With our colors on and four particularly wicked-looking chair legs in our hands 167
Our peculiar style of pushing a football right through the thorax of the whole middle west 205
"If you don't like that beanbag, eat it" 220
He invited Miss Spencer to go street-car riding with him 246
You can always spot these family friends 252
"How are all the other good old chaps?" she said 270
Why, they even made us cut chapel to go walking with them 280
Am I going to the game Saturday? Am I? Me? Am I going to eat some more food this year? Am I going to draw my pay this month? Am I going to do any more breathing after I get this lungful used up? All foolish questions, pal. Very silly conversation. Pshaw!
Am I going to the game, you ask me? Is the sun going to get up to-morrow? You couldn't keep me away from that game if you put a protective tariff of seventy-eight per cent ad valorem, whatever that means, on the front gate. I came out to this town on business, and I'll have to take an extra fare train home to make up the time; but what of that? I'm going to the game, and when the Siwash team comes out I'm going to get up and give as near a correct imitation of a Roman mob and a Polish riot as my throat will stand; and if we put a crimp in the large-footed, humpy-shouldered behemoths we're going up against this afternoon, I'm going out to-night and burn the City Hall. Any Siwash man who is a gentleman would do it. I'll probably have to run like thunder to beat some of them to it.
You know how it is, old man. Or maybe you don't, because you made all your end runs on the Glee Club. But I played football all through my college course and the microbe is still there. In the fall I think football, talk football, dream football, even though I haven't had a suit on for six years. And when I go out to the field and see little old Siwash lining up against a bunch of overgrown hippos from a university with a catalogue as thick as a city directory, the old mud-and-perspiration smell gets in my nostrils, and the desire to get under the bunch and feel the feet jabbing into my ribs boils up so strong that I have to hold on to myself with both hands. If you've never sat on a hard board and wanted to be between two halfbacks with your hands on their shoulders, and the quarter ready to sock a ball into your solar plexus, and eleven men daring you to dodge 'em, and nine thousand friends and enemies raising Cain and keeping him well propped up in the grandstands--if you haven't had that want you wouldn't know a healthy, able-bodied want if you ran into it on the street.