“You! Eight half! What good do you think you are? You’re supposed to go in there and clear out that hole, and instead of that you let the runner ahead of you and then walk all over his heels! Can’t you understand that play? Don’t you get the signal, or what’s your trouble?” “I thought full-back went ahead,” grumbled Halden. “You thought! Great guns, haven’t you been through that play often enough? Come on, now! Try to get it right this time.” Halden did get it right, but the effort so unnerved him that he stopped as soon as he was clear of the line and the full-back ran into him. “All right as far you got,” commented Dick, bitterly, “but there’s supposed to be an opposing line in front of you, Halden. Keep on going! Here, we’ll switch that play to the other side and you watch how it’s done.” This time the right half cleared the hole on his own side and the full-back, ball hugged to his stomach, plunged after him. “Get it?” asked Dick of Halden. “Sure,” growled the left half. “Well, try it then. All right! 7--15--18--7----” Halden started off much too soon, beating the signal by a yard, and a trickle of laughter arose from the squad. “Fine!” called Dick. “That’s great work, Halden! But it’s usual to wait until the ball is snapped! Here, you drop out and let someone else in here for a while.” “You’re not running this,” objected Halden, angrily. “I’m running this squad, and I don’t intend to waste everyone’s time trying to drive a simple idea into that concrete dome of yours!” Dick turned to the followers. “Any of you fellows play half?” he asked. A volunteer stepped forward and Halden, muttering and angry, dropped back. It was at that instant that Dick noted the presence of Warden. If he had known the Varsity man was there, he might have been slower in assuming authority, but, having begun, he kept on with it. “All right. Left half, please. Now then, fellows, let’s get going again. Mind the signals!” Of course when he called on right half to take the ball on a run outside, tackle one or two made the mistake of supposing it was the unsuccessful play that was called for and acted accordingly, but that was to be expected. “I told you to mind signals,” scolded Dick. “Don’t try to guess what’s coming. Listen to me!” When the goal line was reached and they swung around for a trip back up the field, Dick saw that Warden had taken himself off again and was somewhat relieved. He had more than half expected a calling-down for sending Halden out. Toward the end of the signal drill the squad worked fairly well, although Dick persisted in the belief that he had fallen heir to the most stupid bunch on the field. When dismissal came they trooped over to the benches to get sweaters, and as Dick pulled his on he heard Halden’s voice at his shoulder. “Next time you bawl me out like that I’ll hand you a punch on the nose,” growled the half-back candidate. “You wouldn’t have done it if that big fellow hadn’t been there!”