Now the walk was alive with boys, heads protruded from open casements and wandering couples could be seen lounging along the gate drive or over the sloping lawn that descended to the road.

First practice had been called for four o'clock and the big dial in the ivy-draped tower of Main Hall pointed its hands to three-forty when Steve and Tom turned into the path between Torrence and Wendell leading to the gymnasium and the field beyond.

Already, however, the fellows were turning their steps that way, some in playing togs but more in ordinary attire, the latter, yielding to the lure of a warm September afternoon, bent on finding an hour's entertainment stretched comfortably at ease along a side line or perched on the stand.
"That's pretty, isn't it ?" asked Tom, as they looked across the nearer turf to where the broad expanse of playing ground, bordered on its further side by a wooded slope, stretched before them.

The early frosts had already slightly touched the trees over there, and hints of russet-yellow and brick-red showed amongst the green.

Nearer than that, more colour was supplied by an occasional dark red sweater amongst the groups loitering about the edge of the gridiron.
"It surely is pretty," agreed Steve.