rubbed vitriol into the wounds, but behind it all was his immense
passion for victory and his pride in the old college that they loved and
wanted to serve as ardently as he did. It was a wry dose and they
swallowed it with a gulp, but it braced them to new endeavor, and deep
down in their hearts was forming a resolution that boded ill for the
scrubs, who had been gloating while the 'Varsity "got theirs."

"Now," the coach concluded, "I'd about made up my mind to fire half this
gang of quitters back into the scrubs, but I'm going to give you one
more chance. Do you get me? Just one more. For the next hour, you'll
practice tackling and passing and interference. Then when you've
limbered up your poor old joints, I'm going to line you up against the
scrubs. I want you to rip them up, eat them alive, tear them to pieces.
And heaven help the 'Varsity man that falls down on the job."

The boys saw some real practice that day. The coach was merciless. They
flung themselves against the dummy tackle until they were bruised and
sore. They ran down the field under punts until their breath came in
gasps. They practiced the forward pass until they were dizzy and seemed
to see ten balls flying over the field instead of one. But no one
complained or shirked, although every separate bone and muscle seemed to
have its own particular ache. A short respite, the 'Varsity and scrub
faced each other as they had the day before.

But the hour had struck for the scrubs. They faced their doom. To be
sure, they faced it gallantly, but it was doom none the less. From the
beginning they never had a chance. All the pent up rage of the 'Varsity
that had accumulated while they were being flayed by the coach was
poured out on the devoted heads of their opponents. They wiped out the
stigma of the day before and paid their debt with interest. It was a
"slaughter grim and great," and before their furious attack the scrub
line crumpled up like paper.

In vain Morley yelled to his little band to stand fast. They might as
well have tried to stem Niagara. Warren and Hodge tackled like fiends.
Dick at center and Tom at quarter worked together with the precision of
a machine. Bert's mighty kicks were sure to find Caldwell or Drake under
them when they came down, and three times he lifted the pigskin over the
bars. Then as the play was most of the time in the scrubs' territory,
the kicking game gave place to line bucking. Bert was given the ball,
and through