“What’s the good of knocking every time we get licked?” demanded Nostrand. “It doesn’t do any good. Wait till you hear what the trouble was before you begin criticising.” “Everyone knows what the trouble is,” responded McCoy gloomily. “Lovering doesn’t care whether we win or lose. All he cares about is Springdale.” “Maybe he’s right,” replied Grover, reflectively and more cheerfully. “After all, if we win that game――――” “_If_ we do!” said Thad Brimmer. “But how are we going to if we can’t beat these smaller teams? Bet you anything you like that the Varsity would fall dead if it won a game!” “That’s all right,” Fudge spoke up, “but you’ll all be talking out of the other side of your mouth pretty soon. Dick knows just what he’s doing, and don’t you forget it!” And Fudge, looking unusually belligerent by reason of his inflamed nose, faced them indignantly. “What if we do get beaten by Corwin and Logan and all those little fellows? What we’re after is to smear Springdale, and we’ll do it, too, if we’ll leave Dick Lovering alone and not kick him in the shins every time we get a chance! You make me weary, you gang of grouches!” Fudge was a hero just now and his words were hearkened to with respect. An uncertain murmur of approval followed, and some laughter, and Grover said: “I guess that’s so, fellows. Let’s leave Lovering alone. Anyway, I’m going home. Who’s coming along?” And so, although the Scrub triumphed that day, the Varsity trailed home with a third defeat pinned to it, and the school was at first incredulous, then disgusted and, finally, resentful. Explanations and excuses didn’t satisfy. A few fellows who had journeyed to Corwin and witnessed the game declared that hard luck and not poor work had been to blame for the defeat; that on merit Clearfield should have conquered by at least one score. The school at large listened but was unconvinced. “Beaten again!” it said. “Three games lost out of five played! What sort of a team have we got, anyway? What’s Dick Lovering think he’s doing? Playing ‘give-away’?” There had been extenuating circumstances, however, whether the fellows were willing to believe it or not. Clearfield had distinctly outplayed her opponent in three of the four periods, had gained more ground by rushing, had punted farther and had shown better generalship. In short, she had fairly deserved to win. But there is no denying that success is what counts, and she had not succeeded.