"All right," he said gruffly, raising himself with an effort and half slipping to the ground. "Sure? How's Dudley?" He realized in a curious way that others, too, had gone through the game. Then Regan's arm was around him. He did not put it from him, grateful for any support in his weakness. Together they went through the crowd of ragamuffins staring open-mouthed at a defeated team. "What's the matter with Dudley?" "Played through all the last with a couple of broken ribs." "Dudley?" "Yes. Go as slow as you want, old bantam." "If we only could have had another minute, Tom--" He stopped, unable to go on, shaking his head. "I know, I know." "It was tough." "Darned tough." "I thought we were going to do it." "Now, you shut up, young rooster. Don't think of it any more. You played like a fiend. We're proud of you." "Poor Dana!" Upstairs a couple of rubbers took charge of him, stripping him and rubbing him rigorously. Two or three coaches came up to him, gripping him with silent grips, patting him on the back. The cold bite of the shower brought back some of his vitality, and he dressed mechanically with the squad, who had nothing to say to one another. "Yale, I want to talk to you boys a moment." He looked up. In the center of the room was Rivers, coach of coaches, around whom the traditions of football had been formed. Stover looked at him dully, wondering how he could stand there filled with such energy. "Now, boys, the game's over. We've lost. It's our turn; we've got to stand it. One thing I want you to remember when you go out of here. _Yale teams take their medicine!_" His voice rose to a nervous staccato, and the sharp, cold eye seemed to look into every man, just as at school the Doctor used to awe them. "Do you understand? Yale teams take their medicine! No talking, no reasoning, no explanations, no excuses, and no criticism! The thing's over and done. We'll have a dinner to-night, and we'll start in on next year; and next year nothing under the sun's going to stop us! Go out; take off your hats! A great Princeton team licked you--licked you well! That's all. You deserved to score. You didn't. Hard luck. But those who saw you try for it won't forget it! We're proud of that second half! No talk, now, about what might have happened; no talk about what you're going to do. Shut up! Remember--grin and take your medicine." "Mr. Rivers, I'd like to say a few words." Stover, with almost a feeling of horror, saw Dana step forward quietly, purse his lips, look about openly, and say: