“Well, we won’t practice any more to-day. It’s too bad, Clinton.”
Phil swallowed two or three times. He forced back a mistiness that was gathering like a film over his eyes. He thrust the telegram into his jacket.
“Let’s go on with the practice,” he said sturdily. “We aren’t perfect in that fake tackle run yet, and I want to use it against Dodville.”
It was a plucky answer, and many a hardy player on the Randall eleven felt a new liking for the quarter-back as he went to his place behind Snail Looper, who stooped to receive the ball.
[CHAPTER XXI]
STRANGE BEDFELLOWS
The practice was over. Phil stuck to it until he had, with the assistance of the coach and the captain, drilled the ’varsity into an almost perfect running of the trick play. Of course, how it would work against fierce opponents was another matter. But, in spite of the shock engendered by the receipt of the telegram, Phil would not give up until the men fairly “snapped” into place, after he had given the signal for the fake tackle run and pass to the half-back. Now he and Tom were on their way to their room.
“What are you going to do, Phil?” asked Tom.