“Say, Joe, what’s the real dope on Kenly this year, anyway?” asked Bob thoughtfully. Joe shrugged. “You know as much as I do. She’s had about an average season, I guess. She’s played five games, one more than we have, and has lost two, won two and tied the other. You can’t tell much about Kenly until along toward the end of the season, any more than you can about us. Last year she didn’t look very good until the Lorimer game. Then she walked all over Lorimer to the tune of twenty-something to nothing. That was the week before we played her, you know, and it made us sit up and take notice. But taking notice didn’t do us much good, for she walloped us when our turn came.” “The papers speak pretty well of her backs,” observed Cal. “She has one fellow, I forget his name--” “Puckhaber?” asked Joe. “That’s it, Puckhaber! Some name, I’ll say! He’s good, isn’t he?” “He’s all right, but he wasn’t anything remarkable last fall. We stopped him as well as we stopped any of her backs. She’s got a good man in Timmons, though, her left end. He’ll bear watching, fellows. Well, it’s nine-thirty, Bob. Time to turn in. This may be your last night in the old school, son: better make the most of it!” CHAPTER XVIII REVENGE! Alton played the enemy at Hillsport this year, a small town some twelve miles to the south. The distance, however, didn’t measure up to the time it took for the journey, for team and supporters had to take the train to Darlington, nine miles away, and then cross to Hillsport by trolley, consuming all of an hour and ten minutes on the way. Saturday was what Martin called a “mushy” day. The sun came and went from beyond a haze of gray clouds and a light, damp breeze blew inland from the sea. It was too warm for an ideal football day, but those who were to look on found no fault with it. Most of the School accompanied the players and, since Manager Ross when providing for the team’s transportation had failed to make any arrangement for the followers, a lamentable lack of conveyances developed at Darlington. There was a special car waiting for the players, but the single regular car which was due to make the trip to Hillsport ten minutes later could not possibly be made to hold more than eighty of the nearly three hundred fellows who fought for places. A hurry call was telephoned to Hillsport for extra cars, but before they came several scores of good-natured but impatient youths had set forth on foot to cover the last two-and-a-half-mile leg of the journey. Fortunately for these, the game was not started until nearly fifteen minutes after the advertised time and the last flushed and perspiring Altonian had dragged himself to a seat before the Green kicked off to the Gray-and-Gold.