rward pass, and felt relieved. He
could take another few seconds to get his breathing into a more regular
cadence. He looked over at Mortimer, who grinned maliciously. Andy knew,
as well as if he had been told, that the tackle had been needlessly
fierce. But there was no earthly use in speaking of it. Rather would it
do him more harm than good. This, then, was part of the "getting even"
game that his enemy had marked out.

"He won't get me again, though!" thought Andy, fiercely. "If he does, it
will be my own fault. Wait until I get a chance at him!"

It came sooner than he expected. The forward pass on the part of the
scrub was a fluke and after a few more rushing plays the ball was given
to the varsity to enable them to try some of their new plays.

Several times Mortimer had the pigskin, and was able to make good gains.
Then the wrath of the coach was turned against the luckless scrubs.

"What do you fellows mean?" cried Holwell. "Letting 'em go through you
this way! Get at 'em! Break up their plays if you can! Block their
kicks. They'll think they're playing a kid team! I want 'em to work!
Smash 'em! Kill 'em!"

He was rushing about, waving his hands, stamping his feet--a veritable
little cyclone of a coach.

"Signal!" he cried sharply.

It came from the varsity quarter, and Andy noticed, with a thrill in his
heart, that Gaffington was to take the ball.

"Here's where I get him!" muttered Andy, fiercely.

There was a rush--a thud of bodies against bodies--gaspings of breaths,
the cracking of muscles and sinews. Andy felt himself in a maelstrom of
pushing, striving, hauling and toppling flesh. Then, in an instant, there
came an opening, and he saw before him but one player--Mortimer--with
the ball.

Like a flash Andy sprang forward and caught his man in a desperate
embrace--a hard, clean tackle. Andy put into it all his strength,
intent only upon hurling his opponent to the turf with force enough to
jar him insensible if possible.

Perhaps he should not have done so, you may say, but Andy was only
human. He was playing a fierce game, and he wanted his revenge.

Into Mortimer's eyes came a look of fear, as he went down under the
impact of Andy. But there was this difference. Mortimer's previous
experience had taught him how to take a fall, and he came to no more
hurt through Andy's fierce tackle than from that of any other player,
however much Andy might have meant he should. Our hero did not stop to
th