“Yes, he does!” answered Devens, sarcastically. “I’ll wager I could pick a better team out of the two lower classes than Hop will get together this fall. Adams will lick us again as sure as fate. They’ve got almost all of last year’s team left. Hop may mean well enough――only I don’t believe it――but he certainly doesn’t _do_ well enough. I’m sick of seeing the school beaten every year.” “We won year before last,” said Law. “Yes, we’ve won once in five years,” said Rob. “I suppose that’s all we ought to expect. They tell us that defeat is much better for us morally than victory, victory enlarging the cranium and making us vain and arrogant and unlovely. Remember ancient Rome.” “What about ancient Rome?” demanded Jelly. “Eh? Oh――oh, nothing; just remember it. I heard Mac say that once in class, and it sounded rather well.” When the laugh had passed, Rob addressed Devens again: “Are you going out this year?” “Oh, I suppose so,” answered Devens, disgustedly. “This will make the third time. But I’m sick of getting knocked around on the second team. I’m going to tell Hop that if he doesn’t give me a fair show for the first, I’ll quit, and he can find some one else to do the human stone wall act for him. Look here, you fellows, you all know, every one of you, that I can play all around Bert Reid.” “That’s no joke,” said Wright, and the others concurred. “Well, then, why can’t I get on? Favoritism, that’s all it is. Every one knows it, and there’s no harm in saying it. I don’t talk like this outside of school, of course, but――” “What we ought to have is a coach,” declared Peterson. “Of course we ought, and we’ve tried hard enough to get one ever since I’ve been here,” answered Devens. “One year it’s one reason and the next year it’s another; anyway, we don’t get him.” “Hop said last year he’d be mighty glad to have a coach,” said Law. “Yes, but he wanted a fellow he knew and wouldn’t talk about any one else. If the Doctor would take a decent interest in things――” “He always begins to hum and haw about ‘the danger of investing sport with undue prominence,’” said Pierce, disgustedly. “Oh, the Doctor means well, too,” protested Rob. “I’ve got an idea in my head, you chaps, and some day soon I’ll spring it. I’m going to let it seethe a bit first.” “Another of your numerous patents?” asked Jelly, with a grin. “Maybe. Look here, Gus, my friend Kingsford wants to try for the team. I told him what he was up against, but he has the――the indomitable will and reckless courage of his forebears, and refuses to be intimidated. You sort of put him up to the tricks, will you? See that he doesn’t get into any more trouble than necessary.” “Glad to,” answered Gus Devens, with a friendly nod to Evan. “Played, have you, Kingsford?” “Yes, quite a little.” “What?” “Half and quarter; quarter mostly.” “Whew! we certainly could use a good quarter,” said Wright. “Miller’s the limit. I hope you get a show, Kingsford.”