it. Perry, Lee Merritt, Hammond, Littlefield, Betty Lawton, Praska, and others went forth as a speakers' committee from the Congress to inspire the school and to rouse it to concerted action.
"The athletic field is yours," they cried, "if you'll get out and work. Take the Breeze home! See that that article is read! Try to find out if your parents will vote for the field on Election Day. Northfield is depending on you. If you fail her, she's lost. You are her soldiers and we're here to-day, on behalf of the Congress, sounding the battle cry and the charge."
The home rooms caught the enthusiasm—there could be no doubt of that. Yet two days later only seventy-two students had reported votes in favor of the field. The results were almost as disappointing as they had been before. By that time another issue of the Breeze was out with a third article, but Bristow made no boasts.
"My father," little Johnny Dunn told him, "says we have too many things now to take our minds off our studies."
"Has he read my articles?" the editor demanded.
Johnny Dunn nodded. Bristow looked crestfallen.
At noon a girl came to the cafeteria, where Praska was eating, and told him that Carlos Dix
