t wouldn't be a bad scheme, eh?"

"I don't know how they did it," said Marvin soberly, setting down his
empty glass with a last fond look, "but if you take my advice, Tracey,
you'll have it understood next year that there's to be no miracles!"

Clint regretted that defeat, but it didn't affect his spirits any. As a
matter of fact, Clint had reached a state of second team patriotism that
precluded his being heart-broken about anything save a humiliating
beating of the second. And most of the other members of Mr. Boutelle's
constituency felt the same way. It was regrettable to have the school
team worsted, but the main thing in life was the glory of the second. If
Coach Robey had suggested that Clint should throw in his lot with the
'varsity just then Clint might have felt flattered but he would probably
have gently and firmly declined the promotion. "Boots," in short, had in
a bare fortnight endowed his charges with an enthusiasm and _esprit de
corps_ that was truly remarkable. "Anyone would think," said Amy one day
when Clint had been singing the praises of the second team, "that you
dubs were the only football players in school. Ever hear of the 'varsity
team, Clint? Of course I may be mistaken, but I've been given to
understand that they have one or two fairly good men on the 'varsity."

Clint grinned. "That's what _they_ tell you, Amy!"

"Well, of all the swank!" exclaimed the other incredulously.

"What's that?"

"Side, swell-headedness, dog, intolerable conceit--er--"

"That'll do. You talk like a dictionary of synonyms."

"You talk like a blooming idiot! Why, don't you know that the second
team is nothing on earth but the 'goat' for the 'varsity?"

"Yes, and the 'goat' butts pretty hard sometimes," chuckled Clint.

Amy threw up his hands in despair. "You fellows are so stuck on
yourselves," he said finally, "that I suppose you'll be expecting Robey
to discharge the 'varsity and let you play against Claflin!"

"He might do worse, I dare say," returned Clint carelessly.

"Might do--Here, I can't stand this! I'm going out! Where's my cap?" And
Amy fled.

Clint didn't see a great deal of Amy those days except during study
hour, for Amy was busy with the Fall Tennis Tournament. Besides playing
in it he was managing it, and managing it entailed much visiting in the
evenings, for the tournament insisted on getting horribly mixed up every
afternoon owing to the failure of fellows to play when they were
suppo