gh some pass or start under the
tuition of a coach. Suddenly Joel looked down to see Briscom, the scrub
captain, climbing the seats. He ducked his bare head to the others and
sank into the seat at Joel's side.

"Look here, March, can you help us out the next half? They've taken
Webster on the Varsity, and"--he lowered his voice to a confidential
roar--"we want to make a good showing to-day."

"Of course," answered Joel, "I'll come at once. Can I get some togs from
some fellow?"

"Yes. I'll ask Whitman to find some. I'm sorry to take you away from
your folks, but it's only fifteen minutes, you know."

So when the whistle blew Joel was at left half-back on the scrub,
attired in borrowed plumage that came far from fitting him. And Mrs.
March was in a tremor of dismay lest some one should throw Joel down as
she had seen Blair thrown. Mr. March had not quite recovered from his
resentment over his son's failure to apprise him of the broken finger,
which, after all, was only broken in West's imagination, and viewed his
advent on the field with disfavor.

Outfield began to wonder if his pleasant fiction regarding Joel's finger
was to lead to unpleasant results, when Mr. March relieved his mind
somewhat by suddenly taking interest in the career of his son, who was
trying to make an end run inside Dutton with half the scrub hauling,
pushing, pulling, shoving him along.

"Er--isn't that likely to be bad for that finger of his?"

"Oh, no, sir," answered West. "He looks out for his finger all right
enough. There, he made the distance. Bully work. Good old Joel."

"Did he do well then, Mr. West?" asked Joel's mother. "Of course he
did, mother," answered Mr. March disdainfully. "Didn't you see him
lugging all those fellows along with him? How much does that
count, West?"

"Well, that doesn't score anything, but it helps. The scrub has to pass
that line down there before it can score. What they're trying to do now
is to get down there, and Joel's helping. You watch him now. I think
they're going to give him the ball again for another try around end."
West was right in his surmise. Kicks were barred to-day save as a last
resort, and the game was favoring the scrub as a consequence. The ball
was passed to the right half-back; Joel darted forward like an arrow,
took the ball from right, made a quick swerve as he neared the end of
the line, and ran outside of the Varsity right end, Captain Dutton, who
had been playing pretty wel