"Oh, you be hanged!" grunted Roy. "You'll fight or I'll punch you!" "Oh, I guess I'll get my fill of punches," laughed Forrest. "They say that Hammond center is a corker at that game!" "I believe you're scared of him," taunted Roy. But Forrest only shook his big head slowly. "Oh, I guess not," he answered. "Come on; time's up." The first scored again soon after play was resumed, Jack Rogers getting through outside left-tackle for a twelve-yard plunge across the line. Then the ball went to the second and, with the injunction to confine his plays to straight plunges at the line, Roy took up the fight. But the first were playing their very best to-day; perhaps the presence of the old captain had a good deal to do with it; at all events, the second's gains were few and far between and several times it lost the ball only to have it returned by order of the coaches. They were trying out the first's defense and although twice Roy stood inside of the first's ten-yard line, the practice ended without a score for the second. "I thought you'd made the first that time," said Chub as he and Roy walked back to the campus together later. "You would have, too, if Horace hadn't passed like an idiot." "I knew he would," said Roy. "There wasn't much use trying to do anything with him in front of me. If only Forrest would get some snap into his playing! Great Scott, he's a regular tortoise!" "Well, there's a week yet," said Chub hopefully. "There's no telling what may happen in a week." "There won't anything happen as far as I am concerned," answered the other a trifle despondently. Nor did there. When practice was over on Thursday Roy stood with the second and answered the cheer given them by the first, and afterwards he and Forrest walked over to the gymnasium together trying not to feel blue. "Well, that's over with for this year," grunted Forrest. "Tomorrow we'll be gentlemen and strut around in some decent clothes." He looked thoughtfully at his torn and faded brown jersey. "I guess this is the last time I'll wear you, old chap," he said softly. But Forrest was mistaken, for the next afternoon he and Roy and four other members of the second were out on the gridiron again walking through plays and learning the new signals of the first. Jack Rogers wasn't going to lose the morrow's game on account of lack of players. There was a solid hour and a quarter of it, and when Roy went to bed at half-past nine, a half hour earlier than usual, formations and signals were still buzzing through his brain.