ink that he might have injured one of the varsity players so as to put
him out of the game, and at a time when Yale needed all the good men she
could muster. And Gaffington, in spite of his faults, was a good player.

There was a thud as Andy and Mortimer struck the earth--a thud that told
of breaths being driven from their bodies. Then Andy saw the ball jarred
from his opponent's arms, and, in a flash he had let go and had rolled
over on it. An instant later there was an animated pile of players on
both lads, smothering their winded "Downs!"

"That'll do! Get up!" snapped the coach. "What's the matter with you,
Gaffington, to let a freshman get you that way and put you out of the
game? Porter!" he shouted and a lad came running from the bench, pulling
off his sweater as he ran, and tossing it to a companion. He had been
called on to take Gaffington's place, and the latter, angry and
shamed-faced, walked to the side lines.

As he went he gave Andy a look, as much as to say:

"You win this time; but the battle isn't over. I'll get you yet."

As for Andy, his revenge had been greater than he had hoped. He had put
his enemy out of the game more effectively than if he had knocked the
breath from him by a tremendous tackle.

"Good tackle, Blair!" called the scrub captain to him, as the line-up
formed again. "That's the way to go for 'em!"

The coach said nothing, but to the varsity captain he whispered:

"Keep your eye on Blair. If he keeps on, he may make a player yet. He's
a little too wild, though. Don't say anything that will give him a
swelled head."

The practice went on unrelentingly, and then the candidates were ordered
back to the gymnasium on the run, to be followed by a shower and a brisk
rub.

Glowing with health and vigor, and yet lame and sore from the hard
tackle, Andy went to his room, to find Dunk Chamber impatiently waiting
for him.

"Oh, there you are, you old mud lark!" was the greeting. "I've been
waiting for you. Come on around to Burke's and have some ale and a
rarebit."

"No thanks. I'm in training, you know."

"That's so. Been out on the field?"

"Yes. I wonder you don't go in for that."

"Too much like work. I might try for the crew or the nine. I'm afraid of
spoiling my manly beauty by getting somebody's boot heel in the eye. By
the way, you don't look particularly handsome. What has somebody been
doing to you?"

"Nothing more than usual. It's all in the game."

"Then excuse m