So the voyage of the good schooner Rattletrap was ended. It had been over a thousand miles long, and had lasted more than two months. THE END. TILL THE GAME IS DONE. BY SEELYE BRYANT. Captain "Reddy" Alden, of the Blackwood Academy football team, was not handsome. He was not even graceful. But his chin "meant business," and there was a serene look in his eyes which was likely to make a bully think twice before taking hold of him. His nickname sufficiently indicated the color of his hair, which grew back from his forehead in a "cowlick," and showed a tendency, when of approved football length, to drop in straggling masses down either side of his freckled face. Reddy--or more properly Mark--was nineteen years old, tall, and long-armed, with a very slight outward bend of the legs, and a chest not broad but deep. He looked wiry rather than muscular. As he started toward the village, one Thursday afternoon, his hands were in his pockets, his leather cap was on the back of his head, and the collar of his heavy sweater fell over his shoulders above his double-breasted coat. He walked slowly down the hill, as if waiting for some one, and occasionally turned to look back toward the academy. Soon a clear quick call stopped him entirely. "Hold on there, Reddy!" it came, and the next moment "Buck" Harris darted down the hill and caught him by the arm. The two settled into a brisk walk, and Buck remarked, "I saw Billy Hurd just now. His knee'll keep him off the field for a month." "Too bad!" "Well, what are you going to do?" "Going to do?" "Yes. Saturday comes in two days, and with Hurd gone there's no one on the team safe enough to kick twenty yards." The Captain smiled grimly, "We'll _run_, then!" "Why not give up playing Winston this year? It's an extra game, and they're too heavy for us, anyway. Think what a strain it's going to be to face that rush-line for the two halves. And if they know enough to keep Mellen kicking, he'll about kill us before the end of the first half, making us chase the ball. Besides, he's dead sure to drop a goal from the field, if he gets any sort of an angle within decent distance of the posts." Reddy straightened up, and his blue eyes gleamed. "That game's no picnic for either side!" he jerked out. "The Blackwood boys'll play it for all that's in it! Our tricks are good, and I shall save you for the second half. As for me--well, I was never killed yet, and I never saw a Blackwood eleven go back on its Captain!" This was a long speech for Mark Alden, and it had its effect upon his chum. * * * * * Seton Harris was short, thick-set, and very muscular, although his fashionable clothes and perfect grace of movement might at first deceive you in regard to his "solid contents."