In the other half the Army nine secured nothing.
In the fifth neither team scored. In the sixth the Navy scored one more run. In the sixth Lanton, of the Army, got home with a single run.
Thus, at the beginning of the seventh, the score stood at three to one with the grin on the Naval face.
During the seventh inning nothing was scored. Now, the sailor boys came to bat for the first half of the eighth, with a din of Navy yells on the air. West Point's men came back with a sturdy assortment of good old Military Academy yells, but the life was gone out. The Army was proud of such men as Durville, Prescott, Holmes, but admitted silently that Darrin and Dalzell appeared to belong to a slightly better class of ball.
"It's our fault, too," muttered the Army coach, Lieutenant Lawrence, to a couple of brother officers. "Darrin and Dalzell have been training with the Navy nine for two years, while Prescott and Holmes came in late this season. Even if they wouldn't play last year, these two men of ours should have reported for the very first day's work last February."
"Prescott couldn't do it," remarked Lieutenant Denton, who had just joined the group.
"Why not, Denton?" asked Lieutenant Lawrence.
"He was in Coventry."
"Pshaw!"
"Didn't you know that?" asked Denton.