“Oh, well, maybe so, but that doesn’t make me a player. Any one can watch the pigskin and see where it’s going――or coming. And, of course, if you know where it is you stand a fair chance of getting the runner. But what I mean is that――that oh, I don’t know!” Joe sighed. “I guess it just comes down to this, Gus. Some fellows have football intelligence and a lot more haven’t. And I’m one of the haven’t!” “Well, keep the old shirt on,” counseled Gus. “You’re doing fine. I wouldn’t wonder if we managed to use you a whole lot against Munson. They say she’s got only a fair line this year, and a slow backfield, and you ought to be able to get going once at least; and when you do get started, Joseph, you’re hard to stop.” “A slow backfield!” jeered Joe. “Where do you get that stuff? Munson’s still got Taylor, and he’s fast enough for half a dozen backs!” “Yeah, but the rest are big chaps and don’t handle themselves very quick. Anyway, that’s the dope we get. Rusty’s aiming to put a fast team against ’em, and that’s why I guess you’ll get a good share of work the day we meet ’em. You keep right on the way you’re headed, old son, and no one’ll do any kicking. And keep your eye on the ball just like you’re doing. You sure do make a hit with me in that way, Joe!” “Well, it’s nice to know there’s one thing I do decently,” answered Joe, still deeply pessimistic. “Too bad there isn’t a twelfth position on a football team, Gus. I might get on the All-American as ball-follower!” Gus grinned and muttered something as he lounged through the door. It sounded like “moron.” The Mills game marked the end of the preliminary season. The four games that remained, excepting, perhaps, that with Wagnalls, a week before the final test, were serious affairs; and only the most optimistic Holman’s supporters could figure wins for the Light Green in more than two of them; and sometimes those two didn’t include the Munson contest! Rusty had stopped experimenting now and, barring accidents, the line-up for the Louisburg game would be the line-up that faced Munson. One thing that worried all who dared hope for a victory over the Blue and Gold was the fact that in all the seventeen years that Holman’s and Munson had met on the gridiron never had the former won two successive contests. Munson had beaten her rival two years running twice, but such glory had yet to fall to Holman’s. Holman’s had won last fall, and while there was, of course, absolutely nothing in this superstition stuff――well, there it was! Even Captain Gus, who had as little imagination as any one could have, was secretly oppressed, although publicly, if any one referred to the subject, he laughed scornfully and declared that fellows who put any faith in that sort of dope were morons!