of the field, prayed for a fumble, anything to give his side
the ball there within striking distance of the Hammond goal. But Hammond
wasn't fumbling to any extent that day; wearied and disappointed as they
were, her players clung to the ball like grim death. On her twenty-five
yards she made a gain of three yards through center and when the pile of
writhing bodies had been untangled Horace Burlen still lay upon the sod.
Roy turned quickly toward Forrest. That youth was watching calmly and
chewing a blade of grass. Failing to catch his eye, Roy looked for Mr.
Cobb. Already he was heading toward them. The substitute end tied and
untied the arms of the brown jersey thrown over his back with nervous
fingers. But the coach never looked in his direction.

"Forrest!" he called. And Forrest slowly climbed to his feet.

"Porter!" And Roy was up like a flash, had tossed aside his blanket and
was awaiting orders.

CHAPTER VIII

FORREST LOSES HIS TEMPER AND ROY KEEPS HIS PROMISE

The coach led Roy and Forrest to the field and gave them his orders.

"Get in there, you two," he said briskly, "and show what you can do.
There's small hope of scoring against Hammond, but if the chance comes
work their ends for all there is in it. What you've got to do--_got_ to
do, mind!--is to keep them away from your goal-line. Forrest, if you
ever moved quick in your life do it now. You've simply got to get the
jump on Jones. He's a good man, but recollect that he's been playing
pretty nearly an hour and is dead tired. He'll play foul, too, I guess;
Burlen's face is pretty well colored up. But don't you dare to slug back
at him; understand?"

Forrest nodded smilingly.

"And as for you, Porter, just you play the best game you know how. Keep
the fellows' courage up; that's half of it. I'm taking Rogers out--he's
not fit to stand up any longer--and you'll act as captain. I guess
you'll know what to do on defense, and if you get the ball remember the
ends. Try it yourself on that formation for tandem on guard; and give
Whitcomb a chance, for I think you can get through between tackle and
end. Don't be afraid to take risks; if you get the ball risk anything!
Go ahead now!"

Roy and Porter trotted toward the group of players. As they approached
Burlen and Rogers were coming unwillingly off, the former looking pretty
well punished and the latter limping badly. Jack Rogers turned from his
course to speak to them.

"Good boy, Forrest!" he