“Say, may I have your preserves, Rob?” asked Jelly eagerly. “May I have yours, Evan?”
“Yes,” Rob replied laughingly, “but I wouldn’t count on it, Jelly. I rather fancy we’ll need our suppers ourselves.”
Faculty agreed with Rob in his judgment of the foot-ball notice and it disappeared that afternoon. Mr. Holt, the school secretary, stopped and read it on his way through the corridor to dinner and later brought it to the attention of Doctor Farren.
“That,” said the Doctor, “scarcely agrees with the principles of the school, Holt. It savors too much of compulsion. Kindly remove it and return it to Prentiss with an explanation. It seems to me,” he added musingly, “that athletics are growing more expensive every year. I don’t recall that in my day we required any such sums to run our teams. And, as I recollect, Holt, we won just about as often as we do now.”
“Quite possible,” answered the secretary cynically.
[CHAPTER XVI]
ROB PLAYS A TRUMP
Mountfort came along that afternoon with a big, well-drilled confident team. Hopkins put his best line-up against it. But his best wasn’t nearly good enough. That fact was evident almost from the kick-off, when Riverport, having won the toss, chose its goal and gave the ball to Mountfort.
There was a long high punt and Mountfort came charging down under it so swiftly and earnestly that Miller, who had caught the ball on his twelve yards, was downed almost before he could take a step. Miller tried the center of the Mountfort line and made little impression. A split play, with the ball going through left tackle, netted four yards. Then Law dropped back for a kick. The defence crumpled like paper and the best he could do was to fall on the ball for a safety, scoring 2 for Mountfort. After that it was nip and tuck for a while, with the play ranging inside the thirty-five yard-lines and neither side getting near enough to make a score look imminent.