mped just a bit.

"I tell you, it takes nerve, and a lot of it, to play that game,"
remarked one citizen admiringly.

"Nerve? pooh!" retorted his companion. "Just a hoodlum footrace,
with some bumping, and then the whistle blows while a lot of boys
are rolling over one another. The whistle always blows just
at the point when there might be some use for nerve."

The first speaker looked at his doubtful companion quizzically.

"Would it take any nerve for you," he demanded, "to jump in where
you knew there was a good chance of your being killed,"

"Yes; I suppose so," admitted the kicker.

"Well, every season a score or two of football ball players are
killed, or crippled for life."

"But they're not looking for it," objected the kicker, "or they
wouldn't go in so swift and hard. Real nerve? I'd believe in
that more if I ever heard of one of these nimble-jack racers taking
a big chance with his life off the field, and where there was
no crowd of wild galoots to look on and cheer!"

"Of course killing and maiming are not the real objects of the
game," pursued the first speaker. "Coaches and other good friends
of the game are always hoping to discover some forms of rules
that will make football safer. Yet I can't help feeling that
the present game, despite the occasional loss of life or injury
to limb, puts enough of strong, fighting manhood into the players
to make the game worth all it costs."

"I want to see the nerve, and I want to see the game prove its
worth," insisted the kicker.

Second eleven, though made up of bright, husky boys, was having
a hard time of it. Thrice coach arbitrarily advanced the ball
for second, in order to give that team a better chance with High
School eleven.

And now the practice was over for the afternoon. The whistle
between coach's lips sounded three prolonged blasts, and the young
players, flushed, perspiring---aching a bit, too---came off the
field. Togs were laid aside and some time was spent under the
shower baths and in toweling. Only a small part of the late crowd
of watchers remained at the athletic field. But the kicker and
his companion were among those who stayed.

Coach Morton stood for a time talking with some citizens who had
lingered. As most of these men were contributors to the athletic
funds they were anxious for information.

"Do you consider the prospects good for the team this year?" asked
one man.

"Yes," replied Mr. Morton promptly.