The First cheered then, and after that the Scrub cheered the First, and the audience cheered the Scrub and the Scrub cheered Mr. Connover, and Mr. Connover cheered――no, that isn’t right! But there was a good deal of cheering and noise; and a good deal of laughter as the Scrub formed in line and, eighteen strong, marched off abreast behind a long strip of white oilcloth bearing the inscription in large black letters: THE FIGHTING SCRUB――The Team That Put the “Win” in Wyndham――Scrub 13; F. H. S. 0――Scrub 26; T. A. 9――Scrub 13; W. 2nd 12――WE WERE GOOD AND WE ACKNOWLEDGE IT! Clif held his breath and turned the cold full on, shivered deliciously as the icy water peppered his glowing body and broke into song: “Whoop it up for Wyndham! Whoop it up loud! Here we come on the run! Same old crowd! What we did before, boys, we can do again! W――Y――N――D――H――A――M!” Then he turned the shower off, reached for his towel and dried himself, avoiding the still trickling sprinkler above. Well, that was over! No more football until next fall. It was a sort of relief, too. There had been just about enough of it. Of course he would feel horribly lost for a week or so, but there were compensations. For instance, eats! For six weeks and more he hadn’t had a piece of pie, and the pie at Wyndham was _good_! To-morrow he wouldn’t have to pass his piece across to Crosby. No, sir. And he wouldn’t have to think whether he ought to eat this, that and the other. No, sir, he’d just _eat_ it! There wasn’t much drying necessary, and after a moment Clif wrapped the damp towel about him and padded his way along the wet tile floor to the locker-room. And there was Johnny Thayer, disgracefully unadorned, striding toward him and grinning like a catfish, and holding him with a glittering eye. Clif knew that something portentous was about to happen. He had one of Tom’s “hunches.” Johnny stayed him with two hands against his bare chest and spoke in hoarse elation. “You and ‘Wink’ and I go to the First! What do you know?” “Ice-cold water on the head is good,” replied Clif. But his levity was strained, for he knew that Johnny was talking true talk. “It’s gospel! ‘Cocky’ just told me. Ask ‘Wink.’ He’s over there.” “Did he say me, too?” asked Clif, conscious of the fact that his heart was thumping as if he had just completed an eighty-yard run. Johnny nodded vigorously. “The three of us, old ruffian! Ain’t it great? Gee, they have to come to the Fighting Scrub when they want real talent!” “But, I don’t see―― What’s the big idea? Where do I fit in? You and ‘Wink,’ sure, but me――” “Oh, ‘Cocky’’ll find a use for you, Clif. Trust that old bird! Say, I’m tickled to death! Gee, why, we’ll get our letters, anyway; all three of us probably! What price me with a big blue W on my tummy?” “Well, I don’t know, Johnny. We mightn’t. There’s a lot of fellows on that First Team squad now. I don’t see what he’s going to do with us all!”