I'll hamper you neither with advice nor
orders."
With so important a player as Dick Prescott out of the team Dave
had a hard task in rearranging the eleven. In this he sought
direction from Mr. Morton. Rapidly they sketched the new line-up.
Darrin himself would have to drop quarterback and go to center.
For this latter post Dave was rather light, but he carried the
knack of sturdy assault better than any other man in the team
after Prescott.
Tom Reade was called to quarter. Shortly afterwards all the details
had been completed.
"As to style, you'll gather that from the signals," muttered Darrin.
"The only rule is the one we always have---that we can't be beat
and we know we can't."
There came a rap at the door. Then a bushy mop of football hair
was thrust into the doorway.
"Talking strategy, signals or anything we shouldn't hear?" asked
the pleasant voice of Forsythe, captain of the Hallam Heights
boys.
"Not a blessed thing," returned Dave. "Come in, gentlemen."
Captain Forsythe, in full field toggery, came in, followed by
the members of the visiting team, all as completely attired for
work.
"We're really not intruding?" asked Forsythe, after he had stepped
into the room.
"Not the least in the world," responded Dave heartily. "Mr. Forsythe.
let me introduce you to Mr. Morton, our coach, and to Mr. Prescott,
the real captain of this tin-pan crowd of pigskin chasers."
"Oh, I mistook you for Prescott," replied Forsythe, as he acknowledged
the introductions.
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