At the word Dave sped away like a shot, Hepson giving a hand signal as he uttered the starting word, that the time-keeper at the other end might know when to release the watch. Dave's time was noted. Then Dan took a try, covering the distance in only two fifths of a second more time than Darrin had required. Farley was a second and three fifths behind Darrin's time; Page, a full two seconds behind. White and Bryant then ran, but only succeeded in about tying Page's work. Then six more men were called to the line and tried out. After that a third squad. By this time Midshipman Hepson had his mind about made up as to the relative speeds of some of the most likely men for the final Navy team. "Get out for some kicks, now!" called Hepson. "When are you going to play football?" growled one man. Midshipman Hepson turned on him like a flash. "Jetson, there's a substitute captain in the squad, but you're not the man. Neither are you one of the coaches." "Oh, you make me--" began Jetson, but Midshipman Hepson cut him short with: "If you can't keep silence when you've nothing to say, your absence from the field will be considered a favor to the whole squad." Jetson scowled, but said nothing more. Neither did he offer to retire from the field. "Jetson has always been a kicker and a trouble mosquito," whispered Dan Dalzell to his chum. "Oh, in a lot of ways Jetson is a nice fellow," Darrin replied quietly. "The greatest trouble that ails him is that he has just a trifle too large opinion of the importance of his own opinions. There are a lot of us troubled in that way." The kicking practice was put through with dash and vim. Then Midshipman Hepson, after a brief conference with the head coach, called off the line-up for the provisional Navy team, following this with a roster of the second team, or "Rustlers," so called because they force the men of the Navy team to rustle to keep their places. Dave Darrin was called off for left tackle, Dan for left end. Farley and Page held the corresponding positions on the right end of the line-up. "Begin the game, the Rustlers to have the ball," called Lieutenant-Commander Havens. "And mix it up lively, Navy," called Hepson, who, both on account of his size and other qualifications, played center. At the whistle-blast the Rustlers kicked it off--a beautiful, long, arching curve. The ball came to quarter-back, who passed it to Dave Darrin. Then the fun began. The Navy line hit the Rustlers hard and tried to bump through. Dan Dalzell devoted every ounce of his strength and every turn of his energy to boosting Darrin through--and Dave himself was not idle. There was an instant of sullen, hard resistance. Then, somehow, Dave was shot through the opposing line. Like a deer he sped, Dan hanging to his flanks. It was up to the Rustlers' halfback now, and that bulky young midshipman leaped to the fray, cleverly barring the way.