Clancy started the cheering for Colonel Hawtrey, and when it was done, all the campers flocked around the colonel and shook him by the hand.
“It’s a great day for Ellis Darrel, Clan,” said Merry to his red-headed chum.
“It’s a great day for everybody, Chip,” answered Clan, “and especially for true sportsmanship between the clubs.”
“A great day for everybody,” qualified Billy Ballard, “except Jode Lenning.”
[CHAPTER XXXVII.]
A MATTER OF THIRTY DOLLARS.
“Pink, this is awful!”
Young Merriwell turned a gloomy face toward his chum, Billy Ballard, who sat beside him in the grand stand. Ballard fell back with a groan.
“Awful, but true, Chip,” he answered. “After all the grinding, gruelling work of the last few weeks, the regular eleven can’t any more than hold their own against the scrubs. What’s got into the bunch?”
The scene was that part of the Ophir Athletic Club field which lay directly in front of the grand stand and contained the gridiron. Two teams were sweating and struggling with the pigskin—regulars against the second-string men. The first half was drawing to a close. There had been no scoring. The scrubs, playing like fiends, were meeting the regulars at every point and holding them in a most humiliating way.