h is the way it stands when
the game ends.

As we're going off the field an overjoyed member of the school board
comes pushing through the crowd and compliments "Butter Fingers" for
his star performance, ending up with, "And young man, I can't ever tell
you how grateful I am for that other wonderful thing you...!"

"Don't mention it!" says "Butter Fingers," breaking in modestly. "The
thanks are on _my_ side. I didn't have much practice this week and
picking up the kid just put me back in trim!"

FOR THE GLORY OF THE COACH

"There's no use talking, Mooney. You've broken training rules and
you're through. That's final."

For a pulsating moment Elliott University's star fullback stood facing
the great John Brown, acknowledged dean of all football
coaches,--facing him as though he had not heard aright. There was
stunned surprise evident in the attitudes of his team-mates, too. No
one had imagined that John Brown would have the nerve to cross Mooney
beyond the giving of a reprimand. Not and hold the reputation which he
had slaved so hard to preserve in turning out a winning eleven for
decadent Elliott his first year there. The great John Brown might
better have remained in permanent retirement, resting on his richly
deserved laurels, than risk his halo of "wizard" and "miracle man of
the gridiron" by failure to restore Elliott's former football
supremacy. The press had been free to predict, when Coach Brown had
finally consented to do what he could for Elliott, that this task would
prove his Waterloo. "Coach Severely Handicapped by Material and
Facilities," one headline read, while another had it, "Sun Now Hardly
Destined to Set on Triumph for John Brown," the articles going on to
decry the lamentable conditions surrounding Elliott's effort to attain
a higher athletic grade. The task was regarded as beyond that of even
a miracle man and John Brown was credited with having accepted the
crudest of tests.

And now, after Elliott had risen toward glory by defeating Hale, first
of the Big Three, thus repudiating in part the commonly accepted
opinion that the University could not hope to win any of her big
contests that year--now, when all eyes were upon John Brown as never
before; when it seemed as though this wily old fox, in some uncanny
manner, had juggled another victorious eleven out of athletic
chaos,--the coach was cutting off his nose to spite his face by
dismissing Tim Mooney from the team!

Wh