eeing the danger, the kid tries to beat it back, slips on
the wet pavement and falls! I stop dead, looking on, petrified. I'm
so frozen that I don't even see "Butter Fingers" leave my side. My
eyes are glued on the kid and the truck, with the brakes set, skidding
right down on him! I hear Mr. Tincup scream. Then there's a swishing
sound and a body goes sliding along the pavement. It strikes the kid,
arms reach out, fingers grab a hold, the body does a roll ... and then
you can't tell which is which. Honest, I don't dare look for a second,
it's so close! But when I opens my eyes again I see the truck driver
crawling down off his seat, wiping perspiration from his forehead.
Over on the opposite curb there's a long, lean, lanky bird getting to
his feet and helping up a badly scared youngster that's all wet and
dirty.

"Who says football doesn't fit you for something useful?" I hear
"Butter Fingers" mumble to himself. Then he stoops down. "How are
you, kid, all right? We took a nice, wet roll, didn't we?"

The next instant an insane man races across the street and grabs the
kid in his arms and sits down on the damp curb and breaks into sobs.

"Boy," said the truck driver, extending his hand to "Butter Fingers,"
"that was the nerviest stunt I ever seen! Look how far that old wagon
skidded past where you were!"

"Butter Fingers" looks.

"Been a bad place for a fumble, wouldn't it?" he says, then glances
quick at me. "Say, Mark--we'll have to be legging it or we'll miss out
seeing the team!"

"Just a minute!" says a choky voice from the curb. "Where you boys
going?"

"To see the game!" I answers, rather short.

"No, you're not!" raves Mr. Tincup, jumping to his feet. "You're going
to _play_!"

He fumbles in his pocket, pulls out a calling card and scribbles on the
back.

"Give that to Coach Spilman," he says, handing it to "Butter Fingers."
"I'll have to get in touch with the other members of the board before I
can get your suspension lifted but I'll do it, boys, if it's humanly
possible! Meanwhile, you get to the locker room and get all dressed
ready to go in at a minute's notice!"

We're not reinstated till the beginning of the last quarter but it's
time enough for "Butter Fingers," with the score 13 to 7 against us, to
scoop up an Edgewood fumble on our seventeen yard line and run
practically the length of the field for a touchdown! Then I kicks the
extra point to make the score 14 to 13 whic