The Hillsdale Scouts finished their maneuvers and marched off amid a wild outbreak of applause from their friends, and Oakwood, tingling with eagerness, sprang to attention at Miss Raper’s command.  The bugle blew its signal for their entrance, the band crashed into a march and the squads began to move forward.  A roar of applause went up from the crowds on the hillside; Oakwood citizens hailed their champions with all their powers of heart and voice.

“CAMP FIRE GIRLS!” yelled several thousand enthusiastic throats.  The Winnebagos thrilled as they had never thrilled before.  Here was the whole town honoring them, them, depending upon them to lead the Oakwood girls to victory over the ancient rival, Hillsdale.  Agony was nearly suffocating with pride; applause was the breath of life to her.

The company came to a halt opposite the judges, one squad behind the other.

“Squads Left—­Hunch!” Miss Raper’s sharp command pierced them like a bullet.  With the ease of long practice the squads moved in obedience to the command.  The maneuvers had commenced.  Command after command rang out, which they obeyed with conscious snap and finish, pivoting, wheeling, rear marching, left and right flanking in perfect step and rhythm.  Applause was continuous, Oakwood citizens had recognized the “pep” in their performance and knew what the decision of the judges would be.

The first half of the maneuvers was over; there remained now only the prize figure of the drill, the difficult field formation, in which the squads wheeled into the form of a cross and then revolved by fours around a common center, like the spokes of a wheel going around.  It was a complicated figure and required rapid thinking as to whether to turn to right or left in certain places.

The first half of the figure was executed without a flaw; the squads stood ready to form the cross. “Ready—­Wheel!”

Alas for Oh-Pshaw!  When the critical moment arrived and she got to thinking how dreadful it would be if she should make a mistake, she went all to pieces, lost her head and marched forward instead of backward, crashing violently into Agony, who was marching with the four ahead.  Not prepared for the collision, Agony lost her footing and went down in a heap on the ground, covering her white suit with dust from head to foot.  A simultaneous gasp of dismay went up from the audience and the company, while the Hillsdale-ites laughed triumphantly.  One of the Hillsdale boys, a youth of eighteen, who considered himself superlatively funny, called out, “Oakwood Squad, Awkw’d Squad!”

Agony scrambled to her feet, white with anger, and Oh-Pshaw stood still where the collision had occurred, too horrorstruck to move.  A low command from Miss Raper and the squads righted themselves into line and proceeded with the maneuver.  There was no vim left, however.  Oakwood had lost.  They heroically struggled through the remainder of the figure, but Oh-Pshaw, completely demoralized, made one misturn after the other.  The bugler “sounded off” and the contest was over.