"Hear, hear!" came rousingly from Cadet Holmes.
"Fellows—-thank you!" gasped Brayton, grasping both their hands and shaking them hard. "Lieutenant Carney will be delighted. So will all the fellows. Mr. Carney has had a hard, up-hill time of it as couch this year. But now—-!"
There could be no question that Brayton's joy was real. He was a keen judge of football material, and he had been deeply chagrined when Dick and Greg had withdrawn from the early training work of the squad.
"It has been fearful work trying get the interest up this year," continued Brayton with a reminiscent sigh. "So many good man have been dodging the squad! Even Haynes, who is the best we have at left end, ducked this afternoon. Caesar's ghost may know what Haynes was doing with his time—-I don't. But I don't believe he was boning."
Prescott smiled quietly to himself as he recalled how Cadet Haynes had been employing his leisure in this very room.
"Well, I'm happy, and Lieutenant Carney will be," muttered Brayton, turning to go. "A whole lot of us will feel easier."
"Any idea where you'll try to play us?" asked Dick, as the captain of the Army eleven rested his hand on the knob.
"Not much; we'll find out during tomorrow afternoon's practice.
Be sharp on time, won't you?"
"If we're able to walk," promised Dick.
Just after Brayton had gone the orderly came through with mail.