ow it would sound absurd," Dan replied. "But let us put
it another way, Dave. All along you've been working yourself
up into better form, because you knew that, otherwise, it was
very doubtful whether the Navy could beat the Army on the gridiron.
So you had worked yourself up to where you played a better game
than ever Dick Prescott thought of doing. Then you hear that
poor Dick is in Coventry, and therefore not on the team. You
haven't got the great Army man to beat, and, just for that reason,
you slack up on your efforts."

"I am not slacking up," retorted Dave with some spirit. "I am doing
the best that is in me, though I admit I appear to have gone stale."

"And so something will happen," predicted Dan.

"What will that be?"

"Between now and the game with the Army, Prescott's comrades will
find what boobs they've been, and they'll lift the Coventry.
Prescott and Holmes will get into the Army team at the last moment,
and the fellows from West Point will ride rough-shod over the
Navy, just as they did last year."

"Do you really think that will happen?" demanded Darrin eagerly.
"Do you really believe that dear old Dick will get out of that
Coventry and back on the Army eleven?"

"Well," returned Midshipman Dalzell soberly, "I'll venture a prediction.
If you don't get a brace on your playing soon, then it'll be
regular Navy luck for Prescott to come to Philadelphia and put
on his togs. Then the soldiers will drag us down the field to
the tune of 46 to 2."

"I'd sooner he killed on the field than see that happen!" cried
Midshipman Dave, his eyes flashing.

"Then don't let it happen! You're the only star on our team, Dave,
that isn't up to the mark. If we lose to the Army, this year,
Prescott or no Prescott, it will be your fault, Dave Darrin.
You're not one of our weak spots, really but you're not as strong
as you ought to be and can be if you'll only brace."

"Brace!" quivered Dave. "Won't I, though?"

"Good! Just stick to that."

"Dan!" Darrin halted his chum before a store where dry goods and
notions were sold. "Let's go in here-----"

"What, for?" Midshipman Dalzell asked in astonishment.

"I want to make a purchase," replied Dave soberly. "Danny boy,
I'm going to buy you a hat pin---one at least ten inches long.
You're to slip it in, somewhere in your togs. When you catch
me lagging---practice or game---just jab that hat pin into me
as far as you can send it."

"Bosh!" retorted Dan