Things went better at once, and, Forrest and Roy working together like well fitted parts of a machine, the ball went down the field on straight plays and over the line for the first score. But Forrest had to work, for Horace, smarting under the indignity of a return to the second, fought over every inch of the ground. The ball was taken from the first and given to Bacon. And then there was a different story to tell. Bacon piled his men through center, Horace getting the jump on Forrest every time and crashing through in spite of the efforts of the secondary defense. King shook his head and frowned. Then he called Jack Rogers out of the line and talked to him for a minute, while the players repaired broken laces and had their heated faces sponged off. Roy, making the rounds of the men, cheering and entreating, caught by accident a portion of the conversation between the two. "That's where you've made your mistake," King was saying sorrowfully. "You've failed to see the possibilities in Forrest. Slow? Sure he is; slow as an ice wagon! But you could have knocked a lot of that out of him. He's too good-natured; I know the sort; but mark my words, Jack, if you can get him mad he'll play like a whirlwind! Oh, it's too late now; Bacon and Burlen are your best pair. Only--well, there's no use regretting. You've picked a pretty good team, old man, and if you can ginger them up a bit more, get more fight into them next Saturday, you'll stand to win. Remember this, Jack; a fresh center that knows the game, even if he is slow, is better than a tuckered one. Give Forrest a chance in the second half, if you can; and put Porter in with him. They're a good pair. Too bad Porter can't work better with Burlen; he's a streak, that kid! Well--" Roy moved out of hearing and presently he and Forrest were back on the second and they were hammering their way down the field again. The first fifteen-minute half ended with the ball in possession of the second on the first's twenty-yard line. The players trotted to the side-line and crept under their blankets and sweaters, King and Rogers and Cobb talking and gesticulating a little way off. Roy found himself next to Forrest. The center, rubbing thoughtfully at a strained finger, heaved a sigh. "Sorry I disappointed Johnny," he said. "But, shucks! Why, I couldn't stand up ten minutes against that Hammond center! I know what I'm good for, Porter; I don't try to deceive myself into thinking I'm a great player; only--well, I'm sorry I couldn't do better for Johnny King." "You'll do a heap better next Saturday," answered Roy. "Pshaw! They won't let me into it!" "You wait and see," said Roy. "And if you go in I guess I will. And if we do get into it, Forrest, let's show them what we can do, will you?" Forrest turned and observed the other's earnest countenance smilingly. "I'll do the best I know how," he said good-naturedly, "but I guess they'll do better to leave me out."