"If it's as bad as that," hinted Dan innocently, "wouldn't it be a prime good idea to draw our eleven from the field this year?"
"What? Strike the Navy's colors, and especially to the Army?" glared Mr.
Hepson. "What are you talking about?"
"Then I guess," nodded Dan, "that we'll have to stay in the ring, and let it go by apologizing to the Army for getting in their way on the field the Saturday after Thanksgiving."
"We won't do that, either, by Jingo!" retorted Midshipman Hepson. "But we've got to strengthen our team. We've got to practice every minute that the commandant will allow us for practice. We've got to make a front-rank team out of—nearly nothing!"
"Aren't there any good players who have been holding back?" asked
Dave Darrin.
"Two that I know of, Darrin," rejoined Hepson, fixing his eyes keenly on Dave.
"Who are they?"
"You and Dalzell."
"We haven't backed out, or refused duty," Darrin retorted quickly.
"No; but you haven't pushed yourselves forward any, either."