A dozen times he flung his meager weight against the ponderous bodies of the center men, crushed by the impact in front, smothered by the surging support of his own line behind, helpless in the grinding contention, turned and twisted, going down in a heap amid the shock of bodies, thinking always:
"Well, the darn fools will find out just about how much use I am here!"
When the practise ended, at last, Dana called on Tompkins.
"Joe, take Stover and give him a line on the punting, will you?"
"I say, he's been worked pretty hard," said the coach with a glance.
"How about it?" said Dana quickly.
"All right," said Stover, lying gloriously. At that moment, aching in every joint, he would have given everything to have spoken his mind. Instead he brought forth a smile distinguished for its eagerness, and said, "I'd like to get right at it, sir."
"Fullback's the big problem," said Tompkins, as they started across the field. "Bangs can fill in at end, but we've got to get a fullback that can catch punts, and with nerve enough to get off his kicks in the face of that Princeton line."
"I'll do my best, sir," said Stover, with a sinking feeling.
For twenty minutes, against the rebellion of his body, he went through a rigorous lesson, improving a little in the length of his punts, and succeeding fairly well in holding the ball, which came spinning end over end to him from the region of the clouds.