half-hour of
signal work, punting and catching. Then the second, wet and muddy, came
across to the first team gridiron and the two elevens leaped at each
other again. Danny followed close behind, cautioning and scolding, and
more than one player was dragged out of the melee and sent off to the
gym in spite of the coach's pleas and protestations.

"I'll not have them hurted," reiterated Danny stubbornly. "'Tis no sort
of a day for hard work, Coach. I've got 'em through this far an' I'll
not be havin' them breakin' their legs an' arms for the sake of a bit of
practice, sir."

"Hang their arms and their legs!" fumed Mr. Robey. "They might as well
not have any as start the game Saturday half-baked! Give me a chance,
Danny!"

"'Tis takin' big chances, sir, playin' 'em on this sort of a field."

"Then we'll take chances!" growled the coach. "Now get in there, first,
and rip it up! Show what you can do! You've got six to go on third down;
put it over! Wait a minute! Thursby! Get in there for Innes and hold
that centre of the line steady."

"Trot all the way in, my boy, and get a good rubbin'," directed Danny to
the discomforted Innes. "Hi! Put your blanket on! Are you crazy?"

"Play lower there, Hall! Throw them back, second!" entreated "Boots."
"Don't let them have an inch!"

Then the first piled through Brownell for three yards, slipping in the
mud, panting, grunting to the accompaniment of thudding feet and the
_swish_ of wet canvas. Above the players a cloud of steam hovered as
they disentangled themselves. Danny darted into the confusion. Benson
was on his back, thrashing his arms.

"Water!" bawled Danny.

A helper raced on with a slopping pail. Danny's fingers went exploring.

"Ankle," groaned Benson, and Danny shot a triumphantly accusing look at
Coach Robey. In a minute Benson was being helped off and the game was on
again, but Mr. Robey showed a distinct aversion to meeting the trainer's
glance. Later, in the gymnasium, it was known that Benson had hurt the
bad ankle again and would not be able to play the game through on
Saturday, even if he was allowed to get into it at all. Coach Robey
accepted the tidings with a shrug and a scowl.

"Fine!" he said sarcastically. "Claflin's left end is the best player
they've got. Roberts will stand a fine chance against him! Look here,
Danny, I thought you said Benson's ankle was all right?"

"So I did! And so it was all right!" sputtered Danny. "But I didn't say
h