right or wrong, I'm
going to play like a fool until they get tired of jumping on me and just
yank me out in sheer disgust.

"Simson's got his eagle eye on me, the old ferret! And he will have me
on the hospital list to-morrow, I'll bet a dollar. He'll say I've gone
'fine' and tell me to get plenty of sleep and stay outdoors. And the
doctor will give me a lot of nasty medicine. Well, it's all in the
bargain. I'd like to have played in Saturday's game, though; but Paul
has set his heart on it, and if he doesn't make the team he'll have
seven fits. It means more to him than it does to me, and next fall will
soon be here. I can wait."

"_Fletcher! Wake up, will you_?"

Foster was glaring at him angrily. The blood rushed into Neil's face and
he leaped to his position. Even Ted Foster's patience had given out,
Neil told himself; and he, like all the rest, would have only contempt
for him to-morrow. The ball was wet and slimy and easily fumbled. Neil
lost it the first time it came into his hands.

"Who dropped that ball?" thundered Mills, striding into the back-field,
pushing players left and right.

"I did," answered Neil, striving to meet the coach's flashing eyes and
failing miserably.

"You did? Well, do it just once more, Fletcher, and you'll go off! And
you'll find it hard work getting back again, too. Bear that in mind,
please." He turned to the others. "Now get together here! Put some life
into things! Stop that plunging right here! If the second gets another
yard you'll hear from me!"

"First down; two yards to gain!" called Jones, who was acting as
referee.

The second came at them again, tackle-back, desperately, fighting hard.
But the varsity held, and on the next down held again.

"That's better," cried Mills.

"Use your weight, Baker!" shrieked one of the second's coaches, slapping
the second's left-guard fiercely on the back to lend vehemence to
the command.

"Center, your man got you that time," cried another. "Into him now!
Throw him back! Get through!"

Ten coaches were raving and shrieking at once.

"Signal!" cried the second's quarter, Reardon. The babel was hushed,
save for the voice of Mills crying:

"Steady! Steady! Hold them, varsity!"

"_44--64--73--81!_" came Reardon's muffled voice. Then the second's
backs plunged forward. Neil and Gillam met them with a crash; cries and
confusion reigned; the lines shoved and heaved; the backs hurled
themselves against the swaying group; a smoth