“That’s all; from the goal-line to the fifty-yard-line. That’s all that’s needed, you see. Want to play with it?” The coach laughed and wheeled a deep-seated rep-covered armchair to the table. “Sit down and be comfortable,” he added. Willard subsided embarrassedly into the chair, still holding the miniature gridiron. Joe and Bob were seated by one of the side windows--what breeze there was came from the west this evening--and Martin and the coach shared an old-fashioned sofa nearby. Willard, listening to the talk, began to set the thumb-tacks in place along the thirty-yard-line. Presently he had become so interested in arranging a forward-pass defense for the gray tacks that he had forgotten all about the others. He wasn’t quite certain that the Gray’s ends should play all the way up into the line, and he set them back half the distance to the next white mark. Then he concluded that the pass would be made by that suspicious-looking red tack labeled “L. H.” and that it would go to one of the red ends. Consequently, he advanced the gray ends up to the line once more, but a trifle further out, so that they might cut in quickly and spoil the throw. After that he pulled the Gray’s quarter-back in another yard or two, chancing that the ball would not go more than fifteen yards. Then there was nothing to do but wait for the play, and, since it didn’t materialize, he set the board back on the table and gave his attention again to the others. “Two years ago,” Mr. Cade was saying, “there were five of us in here for almost a week: Levington and Sproule and Jack Tanner-- Who was the chap helped coach the tackles that year, Myers? Do you remember? Tall fellow who wore spectacles and--” “Clarke, sir? No, I know! Salters!” “That’s right! Salters! He was a good hand and I’d like to get him back again this fall. Well, there were five of us, I remember, and we were bunked all over the place; three of us in the bedroom and two of us in here. We had rather a good time, but no one got much sleep. I remember the night before the Kenly game we sat up until nearly three o’clock. Our left tackle, Gadsden, had sprained his ankle that day; someone pushed him coming out of Academy; and we had to make over the whole plan of battle. Gadsden, you’ll remember, was our long punter and we’d mapped out a kicking game. To make things worse, it began to rain and sleet that evening, and we’d looked for a dry field. We certainly had our hands full that night. It was Levington who suggested pulling the guards out and using them on end runs, and we won on those plays. You see our backfield was pretty light and the wet field slowed them up. You played awhile in that game, didn’t you, Myers, toward the end?” “Yes, for three or four minutes. I was in when we made our second score. We dumped their end and Morgan shot around for four yards and the touchdown.”