The coach carried the ball in and put it down for the scrimmage, first giving the little end a deserved compliment, and then scoring the first severely for careless tackling. The glory of the second faded quickly. The quarter fumbled and lost a yard. Bumpus let Eaton through on the waiting half; the third down was followed by a feeble punt which Sumner ran back twenty yards. Then came a quick reversal. The first had the men and the signals. The ball was pushed rapidly through the centre, through the right side, again through the centre and again through right. At a new signal Hardie caught a change of expression in Dunn’s face, and knew that his own turn had come. “Look out, Mac!” he shouted, and leaped for his opening with the first movement of the ball. Dunn held him but an instant; with a side buffet of the open hand the new tackle slipped by, ruined the interference, and drove the convoy straight into Mac’s sure grip. “This feels like it again,” Roger said to himself as he took his place once more. “They’re not up to a Hillbury class team after all.” “Whose fault was that?” demanded the coach. “Mine!” said Talbot, shortly. Hardie looked in wonder over at the friendly half-back. It wasn’t Talbot’s fault, or at least not primarily. Dunn had failed to block his man, Talbot only to make his protection wholly effective—a difficult task at best. The essential weakness lay with Dunn. “Tackle and end must take care of the opposing tackle,” said the coach. “Get down in front of him, Dunn, spread your elbows, dive into him with your shoulder, but _hold him_—you hear?” “He started before the ball was snapped,” pleaded Dunn. “Shut up! Play the game!” commanded Talbot. “I said it was my fault.” They bucked the centre once more, by way of variety, and then made another trial of the left side. Horr went ahead to push out the end, and Talbot carried the ball. This time Dunn made frantic efforts to hold his man by use of body and arms without much regard for the rules of the game; but Hardie, keeping him at arm’s length, made a dash at the runner that staggered him, and the line half-back laid him low. At the third attempt Dunn and Eaton together contrived to box the second tackle, and the play went through, over the line half-back. Mr. Adams, who feared overdoing at the beginning of the season, cut into the coach’s programme after the first had made two touch-downs, and put an end to the practice. Bumpus limped in like an exhausted dray-horse, sweating at every pore. Stover and Hargraves hailed him as he crossed the road to the dressing rooms. “How’d you like it, Bump?” asked Stover. “You look warm.” “You played a bully game,” said Hargraves. “Did I?” Bumpus gave them a glance of suspicion. “It didn’t seem so.” “It was great playing,” continued Stover. “Going to keep it up?” “Of course he is!” interrupted Harrison, as he came up from behind. “Bump won’t go back on the school as long as it needs him.”