Eleven young fellows who had been waiting with more or less patience now threw aside their blankets or robes and came running across the field, their eyes dancing with keen delight.
"Mr. Wolgast, let the Rustlers start the ball—-and take it away from 'em in snappy fashion!" admonished coach.
The game started. In the second team at Annapolis there were some unusually good players—-half a dozen, at least, who were destined to win a good deal of praise as subs. that year.
Tr-r-r-r-ill! sounded the whistle, and the ball was in motion.
Yet, try as he did, the captain of the Rustlers made a side kick, driving the ball not far out of Dave Darrin's way. It was coming, now, in Dan's path, but Dalzell muttered in a barely audible undertone:
"You, Davy!"
So Darrin, playing left end on the Navy team, darted in and caught the ball. He did not even glance sideways to learn where Dan was. He knew that Dalzell would be either at his back or right elbow as occasion demanded.
"Take it away from Darry!" called Pierson, captain of the Rustlers.
"Block him!"
The scores of spectators lining the sides of the field were watching with keenest interest.
It was rumored that Dave and Dan had some new trick play hidden up their sleeves.