on, "That will be doing for ye, I'm thinking."

"Isn't she a great old warrior?" says Lloyd aside, to the young ladies.

"The Don! The Don!" cry the 'Varsity contingent. "We-like-Don!
We-like-Don!" they chant, surging across the corner of the field in the
wildest enthusiasm.

"Keep back! Keep back! Give him air." The referee, and the captains
with their teams, push the crowd back, for Bunch is lying motionless
upon the ground. "It's simply a case of wind," says little Carroll, the
McGill quarter, lightly.

"The want of it, you mean," says big Mooney, hauling Carroll back by
the neck.

In a few minutes, however, the plucky McGill half back is up again, and
once more the scrimmage is formed.

Gradually it grows more evident that McGill is heavier in the
scrimmage, but this advantage is offset by the remarkable boring
quality of the 'Varsity captain, who, upon the break up of a scrimmage,
generally succeeds in making a few feet, frequently over Shock's huge
body. As for Shock, he apparently enjoys being walked upon by his
captain, and emerges from each successive scrimmage with his yellow
hair fiercely erect, his face covered with blood, and always wreathed
in smiles. No amount of hacking and scragging in a scrimmage can damp
his ardour or ruffle the serenity of his temper.

"Isn't he ghastly?" exclaims Lloyd to the young ladies at his side.

"Perfectly lovely!" cries Betty in return.

"Ah, the old story of the bloodthirsty sex," replies Lloyd. "Hello,
there goes half time," he adds, "and no score yet. This is truly a
great game." Eagerly the men are taken charge of by their respective
attendants, stripped, rubbed, slapped, and sponged.

Up come Shock and Brown. The blood on Shock's face gives him a
terrifying appearance.

"Oh!" cries Helen anxiously, "you are hurt."

"Not a bit," he replies cheerily, glancing in surprise at her.

"How do you like it, Mrs Macgregor?" inquires Brown.

"Man, laddie, they are a grand team, and it will be no easy matter to
wheep them."

"Don't you think now that Shock is a little too gentle with them?" asks
Brown wickedly.

"Well, it will not do to allow them to have their own way altogether,"
she replies cautiously. "But run away, Hamish, and get yourself put
right. There is much before you yet."

"Say, old man," says Brown as they trot off, "it's no credit to you to
be a great centre. You'd disgrace your blood if you were anything else."

Into the 'Varsity dressing roo