"Let the coaches and the captain find that out, then," grunted Hepson. "But you'll work? You'll try to make good? You'll try to make the team and some history?" "We'd lay down our lives for the Navy, at any point and in any sort of game," rejoined Dave Darrin simply. "Good! Bully! That's the way I like to hear a fellow talk!" glowed Hepson, making toward the door. "You'll turn out for practice to-morrow afternoon?" "Without fail, if we're physically able," promised Midshipman Darrin. "Awfully obliged to you, fellows," cried Hepson, throwing the door open. "And now you won't mind if I cut my visit short? I've a lot of fellows to see, you know." The door banged and Hepson was gone. "Say, how's the Navy going to win under a chap as nervous as Hepson?" asked Dan. "That isn't nervousness, Danny boy." "If it isn't, what is it, then?" "Electricity." "Elec--Oh, say, now--" "It's electricity," Dave insisted. "He's a live wire, that man Hepson. He'll pull us through on the field this year, if any one can." "There's nothing like looking on the bright side of things," murmured Dalzell, drumming on his chair. "I'd rather see Hepson under estimate the Navy team," went on Dave, "than feel too sure that it is invincible. Still, I believe that the Navy is going to put forward a mighty strong eleven this year. Though, of course, that is not saying that we can beat the Army." "Why not?" demanded Dalzell almost fiercely. "Because, no matter how good a line we put forward, the Army may put forward a better." "Now, don't go tooting the Army's bugle!" "I am just considering the average of chances," Darrin returned. "Danny boy, sometimes the Navy wins, but most of the games of past years have gone to the Army. So the chances are that we'll be beaten this year." "Not if I have to die on the line to stop it!" glowed Dalzell at red heat. "Maybe you won't even get on the Navy line; perhaps I won't, either, Danny boy. But you know we saw by the "Army and Navy Journal" that Prescott and Holmes are playing on the West Point eleven this year." "Holmes isn't necessarily such a much, is he?" flared Dan. "Greg Holmes is a pretty handy man on the football field," retorted Darrin warmly. "None ought to know that better than we, after we've seen Holmes pull out so many victories for the old High School team. Of course, Prescott is the better player, but Holmes can back him up to amazing advantage." "Didn't we play about as good a game as that pair?" Dalzell demanded. "I don't know," Dave answered thoughtfully. "Perhaps not quite as good a game. You see, in the old High School days, Dick Prescott used to lead and I often backed up his plays. So one could hardly compare us." "If you're in such a blue funk over the Navy's chances, you'd better keep off the line-up," muttered Midshipman Dalzell. "Oh, I'm in no funk," returned Darrin, smiling. "However, I'm not going to be betrayed into any bragging until we've wiped the field up with the Army--if we can."