"Well, it isn't," replied Patterson. "Once in a while they can pull a play like that off, but most of the time they make a grand fizzle out of it. They don't seem to have the spirit, somehow. I'll bet they'll flub-dub it yet."
"Good work, good work," said the coach as he took the ball again. "No time for goal-kicking now. First, see what you can do in carrying it through the line. What's the matter, Harper?"
This last remark was directed at the right half on the Second team, who was limping around, having got in the way of one of the First's linemen, and received a bad tumble in open field while chasing Campbell.
"My old ankle," replied Harper, walking around and wincing every time he touched his foot to the ground. "The one I hurt last week."
"Go and sit down. I'll attend to it after practice; loosen your shoe if it hurts. I want someone to take Harper's place," continued Horton, glancing up and down the row of boys sitting on the sideline. "Hey, you Freshman, what's-your-name," indicating Turner, "get in and play this half."
"Who is that going in?" inquired the Wee One, as Jimmy jumped up and ran onto the field. "Looks like a likely kid."
"He's a friend of mine, Jimmy Turner; he's a Freshman."
"He looks as strong as a bull. Does he know the game?"
"No, not very well, but he's crazy about it, and I'll bet he makes good."
Jimmy took his position, and the next instant he was on the bottom of a pile of bodies and arms and legs. Big Dutton had come through the line, and Jimmy met him with all his force, and stopped him. But there had been a gain. Again Dutton came ramming through. This time the guard and tackle had opened a hole in the Second's line five feet wide, and Dutton had time to get up some speed before he reached Jimmy, who waited for him. It was a bigger gain this time.