"The CRIMSON has a fighting team with its back to the wall and both feet squarely on the ground," were the electrifying words uttered by Coach R.H. Field '26, of the Cambridge Fourth Estate, at the mammoth mass meeting which rocked the rafters of the CRIMSON sanctum last night. The teeming crowd that had gathered to give its last full measure of support to the nine men who seek to stave off Princetonian victory today, reached a high pitch of vociferous enthusiasm, as these words of determined confidence rang out through the jammed room. Every inch of available floor space was covered by the surging flood of humanity which over-flowed onto chairs, tables, mantlepieces, and bookshelves. Windowsills were converted into benches and the piano into a grandstand, while one determined enthusiast was even found up the chimney.

The team filed on the platform at 7.05 o'clock and was greeted by thunderous applause. When the tumult had pub-sided the square-jawed CRIMSON coach stepped to the fore.

Coach Admits Worry

"When I came here tonight," he said, "I was frankly worried. The Princetonian has a good team--I don't underestimate their strength a bit, so far this season their record has been distinctly better than ours. But when I heard you yelling here tonight I knew something was going to happen. With a noise like that behind them the boys can't lose." Then followed the statement of uncompromising confidence in the team which has already been quoted. Adolph, the CRIMSON mascot, jumped to his feet waving the red flag presented to him by E.A. Whitney '17, in the days when CRIMSON diamond supremacy was a national by-word, and the crowd broke forth in a wild demonstration of approval. At this moment, two spectators overwrought by tension and excitement suddenly became unconscious and were helped out.

Bartlett Has Little To Say

Captain Bartlett, of the CRIMSON nine, was hailed as the next speaker. "Well fellows I haven't got much to say. But I want to tell you that your team is a bunch of fighters and every man on it is going out there tomorrow to give his best. So we want to see every one of you in the stands and when we go out on that field we want to hear you behind us."

The final speech of the evening was made by Jones, manager, as well as star first sacker of the local team.

"I might tell you," he began, "that our chances don't look very good. I might elaborate on the impressive showing the Princetonian has made in its secret sessions this spring. I might try to prophesy how this game's coming out--in fact I might do a lot of things. But I've got just one thing I want to say to you. And it isn't that our pitchers have got any new shoots which can fool the other guy, or that a last minute shift in the batting order is going to make us into a different team, but it's just this: the men on this team are going to give every last ounce of energy out there on the diamond tomorrow, and if you get behind them to the last man with everything you've got THEY CAN BEAT ANYBODY.

"I want to hear you YELL when they go out of here tonight--as they soon must go to get in bed early so that they'll be in shape to give all they've got tomorrow for you. I want to hear you YELL tomorrow when they come on that field; I want to hear you YELL when that first Princetonian batter goes out in the first; and I want to hear you YELL from then on until the last Harvard man passes out in the ninth.