upon a bench nearby still talking football, and that
afternoon when the Committee had finished its labors and had adjourned
_sine die_ they left Sanford and Yost still in the lobby, still on the
bench, hungry and sleepy and still talking football."

This anecdote will be a good one for Parke Davis' friends to read, for
how he ever stayed out of that talk-fest is a mystery--maybe he did.

Now that Yost and Sanford have retired we will let Parke continue.

"A few years ago everybody except Dartmouth men laughed at the football
which, bounding along the ground at Princeton suddenly jumped over the
cross bar and gave to Princeton a goal from the field which carried with
it the victory. But did you ever hear that in the preceding season, in a
game between two Southern Pennsylvania colleges, a ball went awry from a
drop kick, striking in the chest a policeman who had strayed upon the
field? The ball rebounded and cleanly caromed between the goal post for
a goal from the field. Years ago Lafayette and Pennsylvania State
College were waging a close game at Easton. Suddenly, and without being
noticed, Morton F. Jones, Lafayette's famous center-rush in those days,
left the field of play to change his head gear. The ball was snapped in
play and a fleet Penn State halfback broke through Lafayette's line,
and, armed with the ball, dodged the second barriers and threatened by a
dashing sprint to score in the extreme corner of the field. As he
reached the 10-yard line, to the amazement of all, Jones dashed out of
the side line crowd upon the field between the 10-yard line and his
goal, thereby intercepting the State halfback, tackling him so sharply
that the latter dropped the ball. Jones picked it up and ran it back 40
yards. There was no rule at that time which prevented the play, and so
Penn-State ultimately was defeated. Jones not only was a hero, but his
exploit long remained a mystery to many who endeavored to figure out how
he could have been 25 yards ahead of the ball and between the runner and
his own goal line."

A story is told of the wonderful dodging ability of Phil King, Princeton
'93. He was known throughout the football world as one of the shiftiest
runners of his day. Through his efficient work, King had fairly won the
game against Yale in '93. The next year the Yale men made up their minds
that the only way to defeat Princeton was to take care of King, and they
were ever on the alert to watch him whenever he got t