r to his
side--the boundary was only fifteen yards away. Dink had thought out
quickly what he would do. He crept in closer than an end usually plays
and at the snap of the ball rushed straight into the starting
interference before it could gather dangerous momentum. The back,
seeing him thus drawn in, instinctively swerved wide around his
interference, forced slightly back. Before he could turn forward his
own speed and the necessity of distancing Stover and Condit drove him
out of bounds for a four-yard loss.

"Second down, nine yards to go!" came the verdict.

"Rather risky going in like that," said Flash Condit, who backed up
his side.

"Wanted to force him out of bounds," said Stover.

"Oh--look out for something between tackle and guard now."

"No--they'll try the other side now to get a clean sweep at me," said
Stover.

The red-haired half-back disappeared in the opposite side and, well
protected, kept his feet for five yards.

"Third down, four to gain."

"Now for a kick," said Stover, as the Andover end came out opposite
him. "What the deuce am I going to do to this coot to mix him up. He
looks more as though he'd like to tackle me than to get past." He
looked over and caught a glance from the Andover quarter. "I wonder.
Why not a fake kick? They've sized me up for green. I'll play it
carefully."

At the play, instead of blocking, he jumped back and to one side,
escaping the end who dove at his knees. Then, rushing ahead, he
stalled off the half and caught the fullback with a tackle that
brought him to his feet, rubbing his side.

"Lawrenceville's ball. Time up for first half."

Dink had not thought of the time. Amazed, he scrambled to his feet,
half angry at the interruption, and following the team went over to
the room to be talked to by the captain and the coach.

It was a hang-dog crowd that gathered there, quailing under the
scornful lashing of Garry Cockrell. He spared no one, he omitted no
names. Dink, listening, lowered his eyes, ashamed to look upon the
face of the team. One or two cried out:

"Oh, I say, Garry!"

"That's too much!"

"Too much, too much, is it?" cried their captain, walking up and down,
striking the flat of his hand with the clenched fist. "By heavens,
it's nothing to what they're saying of us out there. They're ashamed
of us, one and all! Listen to the cheering if you don't believe it!
They'll cheer a losing team, a team that is being driven back foot by
foot. The