sir?" asked Neil earnestly. "I'm feeling
fine. Gillam can't last the game, nor Paul. I wish you'd let--"

"See Devoe about it," answered Mills shortly. He hurried away, leaving
Neil with open mouth and reddening cheeks.

"Well, that's what I get for disappointing folks," he told himself.
"Only he needn't have been _quite_ so short. What's the good of asking
Devoe? He won't let me on. And--but I'll try, just the same. Paul's had
his chance and there's no harm now in looking after Neil Fletcher."

He found Devoe with Foster and one of the coaches. The latter was
lecturing them forcibly in lowered tones, and Neil hesitated to
interrupt; but while he stood by undecided Devoe glanced up, his face a
pucker of anxiety. Neil strode forward.

"Say, Bob, get me on this half, can't you? Mills told me to see you," he
begged. "Give me a chance, Bob!"

Devoe frowned impatiently and shook his head.

"Can't be done, Neil. Mills has no business sending you to me. He's
looking after the fellows himself. I've got troubles enough of my own."

"But if I tell him you're willing?" asked Neil eagerly.

"I'm not willing," said Devoe. "If he wants you he'll put you on. Don't
bother me, Neil, for heaven's sake. Talk to Mills."

Neil turned away in disappointment. It was no use. He knew he could play
the game of his life if only they'd take him on. But they didn't know;
they only knew that he had been tried and found wanting. There was no
time now to test doubtful men. Mills and Devoe and Simson were not to be
blamed; Neil recognized that fact, but it didn't make him happy. He
found a seat on a bench near the door and dismally looked on. Suddenly a
conversation near at hand engaged his attention.

Mills, Jones, Sydney Burr, and two other assistant coaches were gathered
together, and Mills was talking.

"The 'antidote's' all right," he was saying decidedly. "If we had a
team that equaled theirs in weight we could stop them short; but they're
ten pounds heavier in the line and seven pounds heavier behind it. What
can you expect? Without the 'antidote' they'd have had us snowed under
now; they'd have scored five or six times on us."

"Easy," said Jones. "The 'antidote's' all right, Burr. What we need are
men to make it go. That's why I say take Gillam out. He's played a star
game, but he's done up now. Let Pearse take his place, play Gale as long
as he'll last, and then put in Smith. How about Fletcher?"

"No good," answered Mills. "At