ot know but what their playing might be so poor and
ragged that they would be ordered to the side lines.

"Line up! Line up!"

Again came the stirring cry. The scrub team, under the leadership of
their captain, withdrew for a short consultation regarding signals, and
to plan how best to stop the rushes of the regular lads. The latter,
under the guidance of Morse, were ready to put the ball into play, for
the captain and coach had decided to see what value their side was in
rushing tactics, before going on the defense.

"All ready now, boys!" exclaimed the coach briskly. "Get into the
plays on the jump. You can do twice as well if you have speed than if
you have not. Hit the defense hard, get some momentum back of you. A
moving body, and all that sort of thing you know, that you learn in
your physics class.

"Jump into the plays. Meet the ball; don't wait for it to get to you.
That applies to you backs," and he nodded at Tom and his two mates.
"Quarter, don't fumble when you pass the ball back. Be accurate.
Don't make a mistake in the signals.

"You guards and tackles, hold hard. Tear holes big enough for the man
with the ball to get through. Don't be afraid. Ends, you want to get
down like lightning on kicks. Nail in his tracks the man who catches
the ball, but don't, for the love of the pigskin, touch him until he
has it, or you'll be offside. Watch out for fake kicks, forward
passes, double passes--watch out for all tricks. If there's a fumble,
fall on the ball and stay there, unless you see a chance to run with
it. You fellows who expect to do any toe work, don't get nervous. The
boys will hold the others back until you get a chance to boot the ball
away. And you fellows in the line, see that you do hold.

"There!" concluded the coach with a sigh. "I've given you enough
football instructions to last all season. Now get busy and let's see
how much of it you remember."

"Line up!" cried Captain Morse Denton, and, the preliminaries having
been arranged, the ball was kicked off by the scrub, as the other
players wanted to see how well they could rush it back.

It was Tom's luck to capture the yellow spheroid as it descended, and,
well protected by interference, he raced down the field.

"Get him, fellows! Get him!" appealed the scrub captain, and several
made an effort to break through to tackle Tom. Our hero noticed that
Sam Heller was running interference for him on the left, and for a