ILLUSTRATIONS
| "Well, Come On! How Did It Happen?" (Page 14) | [Frontispiece] |
| FACING PAGE | |
| Finally, Don Was Unceremoniously YankedUp and Through | [90] |
| "Will You Unlock That Door?" Demanded Don Angrily | [224] |
| The Runner Smashed into Sight, Wild-faced for an Instant Before He Put His Head down and Charged In | [306] |
LEFT GUARD GILBERT
CHAPTER I
THE BOY FROM KANSAS
"Hold up!"
Coach Robey, coatless, vestless, hatless, his old flannel trousers held up as by a miracle with the aid of a leather strap scarcely deserving the name of belt, pushed his way through the first squad players. The Brimfield Head Coach was a wiry, medium-sized man of about thirty, with a deeply-tanned face from which sharp blue eyes looked out under whitish lashes that were a shade lighter than his eyebrows and two shades lighter than his sandy hair. As the afternoon was excessively hot, even for the twenty-first day of September and in proximity to Long Island Sound, Mr. George Robey's countenance was bathed in perspiration and the faded blue silk shirt was plastered to his body.