at they were due for a raking fore and aft and that
they deserved it. No one could tell which one or how many would be
"fired" back into the scrubs. More than one of them, on waking in the
morning, wondered what made his heart so heavy, until with a qualm the
thought of "Bull" Hendricks came to enlighten him. That thought had
persisted all through the morning hours, and, if they were distrait in
the recitation rooms, the reason was not far to seek. Even Tom's
irrepressible spirits were somewhat tamed, although he had less to fear
than some of the others.

"Gee," he whispered, "it's like a funeral."

"Don't cheer, boys, the poor devils are dying," murmured Bert.

"They piled the stiffs outside the door,
There must have been a cord or more,"

quoted Dick.

The subdued way in which the boys filed in gave the coach his cue.

"Nice little flock of sheep," he purred. "Little Bo-Peep will miss you
pretty soon and come down here looking for you."

"There was a time," he flashed, "when a Blue football team was a pack of
wolves. But you're just sheep and the 'Greys' and 'Maroons' will make
mutton of you, all right."

"A football team!" he went on scornfully. "Why, you don't know the
rudiments of the game. You're a bunch of counterfeits. You can't tackle,
you can't interfere, you can't kick, you can't buck the line. Outside of
that, you're all right.

"Now this kind of work has got to stop. As a comic opera football team,
you're a scream. If the 'Greys' or 'Maroons' had seen you yesterday,
they'd have laughed themselves to death. But no Blue team has ever been
a joke in my time, and you're not going to get away with it, if I can
pound any brains into your heads or any strength in your muscles. If
Nature hasn't done it already, I don't know that I can, but I'm going to
try. The team I'm going to send into the field may be licked but it
shan't be disgraced. It's going to be an eleven made up of men--not
female impersonators. And I'll get them if I have to rake the college
with a comb."

From generals he came down to particulars, and his rasping tongue spared
no one, as he went over the plays of the day before and described their
sins of omission and commission. The men writhed beneath the lash and
their faces tingled with shame. But they were game and stood the
"lacing" with what grace they might, the more so as they realized that
the criticism, though bitter, was just. His whip tore the flesh and he