hardly an attempt to go
round his end, but devoted their assaults to the centre and other wing
of the line.

If there was one thing for which Collingwood, the best football player
in the School, had achieved a special reputation, it was the fleetness
and dexterity with which he could run the ball back after punts. He was
known as the best man in the back field that St. Timothy's had had in
years. So when Ballard prepared for his first kick, the spectators
looked on with composure.

It was a fine kick; the ball went spiraling high and far, but
Collingwood was under it as it fell, and Dennison was in front of him to
protect him.

Yet Lawrence, rushing down upon them, was too quick, too clever;
Dennison's attempt to block him off was only a glancing one that
staggered him for the fraction of an instant; and the ball had no sooner
struck in Collingwood's arms than Lawrence launched himself and hurled
the runner backwards.

"Whew! What a fierce tackle!" ejaculated a boy near Irving admiringly.

"I think Lou did well to hang on the ball," responded his friend.

Irving heard; he went about greedily drinking in comments which that
tackle had evoked. He found himself standing behind Westby and the other
substitutes, who, wrapped in blankets, trailed up and down the field
keeping pace with the progress of their team.

"No!" Briggs, one of the substitutes, was saying. "Was that Kiddy
Upton's brother? He's a whirlwind, isn't he?"

"Looked to me as if he was trying to lay Lou Collingwood out," returned
Westby sourly.

At once Irving's cheeks flamed hot. He put out his hand and touched
Westby's shoulder; the boy turned, and then the blood rushed into his
cheeks too.

"Was there anything wrong about that tackle, Westby?" Irving asked.

"It just seemed to me he threw him pretty hard."

Irving spoke to the three or four other substitutes standing by.

"I don't know much about football; was there anything wrong with that
tackle--that it should be criticised?"

"It looked all right to me," said Briggs.

"If there is any question about it, I shall want to talk to my brother--"

"Oh, it was all right," Windom spoke up. "It was a good, clean, hard
tackle--the right kind. Wes is always down on the enemy, aren't you,
Wes?"

Westby stood in sullen silence. The next play was started; St. Timothy's
gained five yards, and in the movement of the crowd Irving and Westby
were separated.

For a few moments Irving's thoughts wer