"You're all right, old man."
"You're a whole crowd, Mulvy."
"You're a brick!"
Why the expression, "You're a brick," carries so much weight with boys, no one can analyze. But among any crowd of real boys, it is the limit of hero worship.
Frank had nothing to say and no time to say it. His presence there, fresh and eager for the fight, showed that the incident was passed and forgotten. The coach patted him on the back, and whispered, "You've got to save the day, kid, you can do it." And to them all it was, to compare little things with great, what the Yankees meant to Foch.
The squad on the field looked a different aggregation. And it was different. The wonderful thing "spirit" had permeated them. It echoed in the rousing cheers which the Regal supporters gave them.
"Great Guns!" gasped Dick, just as Gaffney in front of the stand shouted through the megaphone, "A Rah, Rah for Regal." From thousands of throats came the inspiring, "Regal, Regal! Rah, Rah, Re—gal!"
"Now, fellows, a big Rah Rah for Mulvy!" Most of the spectators had supposed that Mulvy was crippled and that he was pressed into service as a last resort. Realizing that an injured gladiator who fights on is a hero, the response that came from the crowd was tremendous.
"Mulvy, Mulvy, Rah, Rah, Mul. . .vy!"
"Give him another," yelled Gaffney.