The Cobber colors, brown and gray, floated here and there on the breeze in the form of small banners.
Gridley's stand was brilliant with the crimson and gold banners of Gridley H.S.

These bright-hued bits of bunting waved deliriously as the band's strains floated forth.
But as "Hail Columbia" belongs to all Americans, the Cobbers elected to flash their bunting, too.
Suddenly the music paused.

Then came pressing contempt for the hostile eleven: "All coons look alike to me!" Cobber's friends took the hint in an instant.

To a man the visiting delegation arose, hurling out the Cobber yell in round, deep-chested notes.
Just outside the lines, behind a huge megaphone mounted on a tripod, stood Dick Prescott, cheer-master.

At his side was Dave Darrin, whose duties were likely to prove mainly nominal.
Dick swung the megaphone from left to right, as he called out through it: "Now, then---number seven!" From the boy's side came the prompt response, in slow, measured cadence, every word of it distinct: "C-O-B-B-E-R! Born in misfortune! Reared on trouble.