Away whirled the megaphone, and he went through exactly the same performance that he had used be¬ fore in conducting the regular cheer. Gifford looked like an inspired madman, but he knew ex¬ actly what he was doing. The students cheered lustily, so lustily that some of them were hoarse the next day. They continued to yell after the cheer was completed, ceasing only when Gifford signaled for silence.
Then there were speeches by each member of the team, all enthusiastically applauded, and finally the speech of the evening, that of the coach, Jack Price. He was a big, compactly built man with regular features, heavy blond hair, and pale, cold blue eyes. He threw off his coat with a belligerent gesture, stuck his hands into his trousers pockets, and waited rigidly until the cheering had subsided. Then he began:
“Go ahead and yell. It’s easy as hell to cheer here in the gym; but what are you going to do Sat¬ urday afternoon ?”
His voice was sharp with sarcasm, and to the; shouts of “Yell! Fight!” that came from all over the gymnasium, he answered, “Yeah, maybe—| maybe.”
He shifted his position, stepping toward the front of the platform, thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets.
