"Lift!" instructed the quarter-back. "Lift me up and yank my feet out from under me! Use your weight and throw me back!"
But in trying to lift the other, Steve allowed Marvin to slip past him and the quarter fell forward instead of backward.
"Try again," said Marvin. "It's got to be all one motion, so to say, Edwards. Get your man, wrap your arms around him and heave. Sometimes you can't do better than stop him. If he's coming hard, you won't be able to put him back. He's got to be more or less erect to make that go. But do it whenever you can. Now, then, once more! Down you go! That's the stuff! Bully work! Don't be afraid of hurting me! Put me back!"
Steve actually did it that time and was so pleased that he was grinning all over his face when Marvin scrambled to his feet again.
"That was a lot better. Once get the idea fixed in your head, Edwards, and it'll come easy. You'll do it without a thought. Once more now, and put some ginger into it. Here I come!"
Marvin walked a couple of steps forward, Steve dropped and gripped his knees, heaved and over went the quarter. A dozen times Marvin made him practise it, and then,
"All right," he said. "Now I'm going to run toward you, Edwards. I'm going to get by you if I can, too. You've got to do your best to stop me. Don't try any flying tackles, and remember that you've got to have one foot on the ground when you get me. All right now!"
Steve was glad they had the gridiron practically to themselves, for he cut a poor figure the first three times that he tried to reach the elusive quarter-back. Once Marvin caught him with a straight arm and sent him toppling out of his path, once Marvin dodged him completely, twirling on one heel and darting past him beyond reach, and once the little quarter-back wrenched himself loose after being tackled. But the fourth time Steve was more successful, and after that he reached the runner every time even if he didn't always stop him short. Even when Steve had his arms gripped tightly about Marvin's knees, the latter was almost always able to somehow make another yard or two before he was willing to call "Down!" But Steve learned more in that half-hour than he had learned all the season, and when, after awhile, the two boys, panting and perspiring but satisfied with themselves, walked back to the gymnasium, Steve had the grace to thank Marvin.
"That's all right," replied the other. "I knew you could play the game, Edwards, if you could once get the hang of making a decent tackle. And I knew, too, that the trouble with you was that you'd just sort of made up your mind that you couldn't learn, that you didn't understand what I've been trying to show you. There won't be any third squad after the middle of the week, Edwards, and if you hadn't shown something more than you've been showing in the tackling line I couldn't conscientiously have sent you up to the second."
"That was mighty decent," muttered Steve.