“Yes.”
“Well, I’m glad of it.”
“You talked to me—you told me it was my duty to play if I could. You told me it was my duty to do everything I could this year to help Old Eli to victory.”
“Do you doubt it now?”
“No. I have begun to taste your spirit, Merriwell. Once I thought I hated Yale, but now I know I was mistaken. I have come to feel such love for her that I am ready to die to carry the blue to victory!”
Frank stepped forward and grasped Bart’s hand, his face lighting up for a moment.
“That’s the right sort of spirit!” he cried. “It is that feeling in the hearts of the defenders of the blue that has made Yale victorious in the past. It is the Yale spirit!”
“Well, I’ve got it now, all right!” Bart almost laughed. “It caught me hard in the game to-day. I never felt before just as I did then. I was ready to break bones or neck to advance the ball a yard. I was ready to die if I could make a touch-down!”
“I haven’t a doubt of it. With such material, Yale should have nothing but a string of victories marked against her this season.”
“Oh, we’re bound to win from start to finish.”