uietly:

"He's fainted, sir."

"Can he go on?" asked the head coach.

"He is out of the question. Ankle's too painful. I couldn't allow it."

"Very well," answered the other as he amended the list. "Kingdon, Blair,
March."

Joel's heart leaped as he heard his name pronounced, and he tried to
answer.

"March?" demanded the head coach impatiently; and

"Here, sir!" gulped Joel, rushing to the door.

"All right," continued the head coach. "There isn't time for any fine
phrases, fellows, and if there was I couldn't say them so that they'd do
any good. You know what you've got to do. Go ahead and do it. You have
the chance of wiping out a good many defeats, more than it's pleasant to
think about. The college expects a great deal from you. Don't disappoint
it. Play hard and play together. Don't give an inch; die first. Tackle
low, run high, _and keep your eyes on the ball!_ And now, fellows,
_three times three for Harwell!_"

And what a cheer that was! The little building shook, the men stood on
their toes; the head coach cheered himself off the bench; and Joel
yelled so desperately that his breath gave out at the last "Rah!" and
didn't come back until the little door was burst open and he found
himself leaping the fence into the gridiron.

And what a burst of sound greeted their reappearance! The west stand
shook from end to end. Crimson banners broke out on the breeze, every
one was on his feet, hats waved, umbrellas clashed, canes swirled. A
youth in a plaid ulster went purple in the face at the small end of a
five-foot horn; and for all the sound it seemed to make it might as well
have been a penny whistle. The ushers waved their arms, but to no
purpose, since the seats heeded them not at all, but shouted as their
hearts dictated and as their throats and lungs allowed.

Joel, gazing about him from the field, felt a shiver of emotion pass
through him. They were cheering _him_! He was one of the little band in
honor of which the flags waved, the voices shouted, and the songs were
sung! He felt a lump growing in his throat, and to keep down the tears
that for some reason were creeping into his eyes, he let drive at a ball
that came bumping toward him and kicked it so hard that Selkirk had to
chase it half down the field.

"Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Harwell! Harwell! Harwell!
Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Harwell!"

The leaders of the cheering had again gotten control of their sections,