Noon came at last.

Everything was now ready for the opening of the athletic tournament.  Chief Wambold kept watch and ward over the grounds, assisted by his entire force of uniformed men.  He evidently did not intend that any boy, with a mind that turned to practical joking, should have a chance to exercise his evil propensities unchecked.  Should such a thing be attempted the joker would find himself up against a snag immediately; and, as those posters announced, he was going to be harshly dealt with up to the “extreme penalty of the law.”

There were hundreds of people on the grounds at noon, which was a pretty good marker for the tense crowds that would soon be heading that way from every point of the compass.  Most of these “early birds” were, of course, out-of-town folks, farmers’ families that had come in, to market, perhaps, and they stayed over to see the great show, because everybody living for many miles round Scranton had heard about the meet, and and what a wonderful sight it would be, well worth going miles to gaze upon.  These thrifty and sensible folks had, in many cases, brought their lunch along with them.  Perhaps they disliked the idea of eating in small restaurants, such as Scranton, like most towns, boasted; but, no doubt, the main thing was economy in these times of scanty cash and inflated war prices.

It was well worth watching when they started to open their packages, and spread out the contents on the ground or, as might be, on the benches here they had taken up their positions the better to see what went on.  And really it would have made any boy’s mouth water to note the immense quantities of home-made pies, doughnuts, fried chicken, and all such good things as were displayed in those farmer’s wives lunch packets.  At least there must be no sign of hard times when the family went on a picnic, or any other sort of pleasure jaunt.

By then the crowds began to assemble in earnest.  Town people, fearing a crush, hastened to leave home with the lunch dishes unwashed, and look for places to sit during the long afternoon.  Along the roads every type of car, wagon, carriage, and other styles of equipages began to be seen, all heading toward the center of interest, which was the town of Scranton.

Hundreds came from Allandale; indeed, it might be safe to even say thousands, for in every direction could be seen the colors of Allandale High, just as though each enthusiastic boy and girl had rounded up all their relatives and friends, and induced them to make it a point to travel to the neighboring borough, there to shout and shriek, and in other ways lend encouragement to each Allandale aspirant for athletic honors wherever they showed up.

Belleville, too, must look very much like the “Deserted Village” on this particular afternoon; and, if the amount of business done depended on the few who had remained at home, her merchants would have to stay up until midnight in order to equal their customary Saturday sales.