stuff!"

"I have to," grunted Clint. "Here it goes right this time."

The signal was repeated and Martin dashed forward, took the pigskin at a
hand-pass and went through the centre. Amy grunted. "You just happened
to guess it," he said. "Where are they going?"

"Over to scrimmage with the 'varsity. Come along."

"Would you?" asked Amy doubtfully. "Somehow I hate to see the 'varsity
trampled on and defeated, Clint. Would you mind asking 'Boots' to be
merciful today! Tell him you've got a friend with you who's soft-hearted
and hates the sight of blood."

Amy made himself particularly objectionable during the ensuing
half-hour. The 'varsity was in fine fettle today and ripped the second
team wide open for three scores in the two periods played. Amy pretended
to think that every 'varsity success was a second team victory.

"There, that 'varsity fellow has taken the ball across the line, Clint!
Isn't that great? How much does that count for the second? Six, doesn't
it? My, but your team is certainly playing wonderful football, chum.
What I don't understand, though, is the--the appearance of satisfaction
displayed by the 'varsity, Clint. Why is that? Carmine is patting
Kendall on the back just as if he had done something fine! I suppose,
though, that they're so used to being defeated that they can pretend
they're pleased! Let me see, that makes the score 13 to for the
second, eh?"

"Oh, dry up!" laughed Clint. "The 'varsity's having one of its good
days, that's all, and we're playing pretty rotten. We have to let them
win once in a while. If we didn't they might not play with us. There
goes St. Clair in for Still."

"I hear that Still is fairly punk this Fall," said Amy. "Too bad, too,
for he was a dandy man last year. He had some sort of sickness in the
Summer, Freer tells me. Still never said anything about it for fear he'd
lose his place."

"That so? I'm sorry for Still, for he's a nice chap, but that St. Clair
is surely a wonder, Amy. He hasn't any weight to speak of, but he's the
fastest backfield man they've got, with the exception of Marvin, maybe."

"Well, I don't know much about the game," said Amy, "but it seems to me
that Carmine is a better quarter than Marvin. He seems to have more
ginger, don't you think?"

"Perhaps, but Marvin's a steadier fellow. More dependable. Handles punts
a heap better. Knows a lot more football than Carmine. I like the way
Carmine hustles his team, though. I reckon Marvin w