m, and so to where, by the rubbing
room door, the captain and coach awaited him. It was Mr. Robey who
brusquely made the announcement. The coach was anxious and tired to-day
and his voice was harsh.

"Edwards, you join the 'varsity to-night. We may have to use you at left
end. Benson's pretty badly hurt, I understand. Be upstairs at
eight-fifteen promptly. You've got to learn the signals and about
fifteen plays before Saturday. Tell your coach I've taken you, please."

"Yes, sir." Steve's eyes, round and questioning, turned to the captain.
Andy smiled a little.

"Rather sudden, eh?" he asked. "Do your best to learn, Edwards. Get the
signals and plays down pat. There isn't much time, but you can do it if
you'll put your mind on it. You wanted to make the 'varsity, you know,
and now you've done it, and here's your chance to make good, Edwards.
But you've got to work like thunder, old man!" He laid a hand on Steve's
shoulder and his fingers tightened as he went on. "Everyone's got his
hands full right now, you see, and there's no one to coach you much.
You've got to buckle down and learn things yourself. You can do it, all
right. And on Saturday, if you get in--and I can't see how you can help
it--you've got to play real football, Edwards. Think you can do all
that?"

"Yes." Steve's heart was thumping pretty hard and his breathing was
uncertain, as though he had raced the length of the field with a pigskin
tucked in the crook of his arm, and his gaze sought the floor for fear
those two would read the almost tragic ecstasy that shone in them.
"Yes," he repeated, "I'll learn. And I'll--I'll play!"

"All right. You'd better join the 'varsity table to-night. See Lawrence
about it. That's all." Coach Robey nodded and turned away. Andy Miller,
following, paused and stepped back. One hand clutched the folds of the
big towel about him, the other was stretched out to Steve.

"I'm glad, Edwards," he said in a low voice as Steve's hand closed on
his. Steve nodded. He wasn't quite certain of his voice just then.
"You'll do your best for us, won't you, old man?"

Steve gulped. "I--I'll play till I drop," he muttered huskily.

CHAPTER XXIII

DURKIN SHEDS LIGHT

Steve felt frightfully lonely that evening. He wanted so much to talk
over his good fortune with Tom. But Tom, very grave of countenance, sat
in frozen silence across the table and never so much as glanced his way.
Had he done so he might have caught one of th