Gloomy, indeed, were those who had hoped to see the Navy win. There were no cheers, save from the visitor-howlers. The best that the leader of the band could do, was to swing his baton and start in the strains of "'Twas Never Thus in Olden Times."
"What do you make of the enemy, Hepson?" inquired Joyce, as the middies rested at the side lines.
"We haven't made anything of them yet, but we've got to make wrecks of 'em before the last half is over," grunted the captain of the Navy.
"How are we going to do it?" asked another player.
"By just hanging at them with sheer grit," replied the captain gravely. "Fellows, they've beaten us so far, but they haven't worn us out any. Big fellows as the Hannistons are, they may not have the endurance to hang to us through all of the coming half."
"That makes me remember a song I heard when on leave this year," grinned
Page. "A part of it runs:
'Said the ant to the elephant,
"Who are ye shoving?
There's one wide river to cross!"'
"And we're the elephants?" inquired Farley in mock innocence.
"Do we look it?" demanded Page in disgust.
"Remember, fellows," warned Hepson, as the signal summoned both teams back to the field, "many a hopeless game has been won in the last five minutes. But don't wait. Hammer the college boys from the start!"