"Give the ball to the scrubs," said the captain, who was also coaching. Stover came in close to his tackle. The third signal was a trial at end. He flung himself at McCarty, checked him and, to his amazement, received a dig in the ribs. His fists clenched, went back and then stopped as remembering, he drew a long breath and walked away, his eyes on the ground; for the lesson was a rude one to learn. "Stover, what are you doing?" cried the captain, who had seen all. Dink, who had expected to be praised, was bewildered as well as hurt. "What are you stopping for? You're thinking of McCarty again, aren't you? Do you know where your place was? Back of your own half. Follow up the play. If you'd been there to push there'd been an extra yard. Think quicker, Stover." "Yes, sir," said Stover, suddenly perceiving the truth. "You're right, I wasn't thinking." "Look here, boy," said the captain, laying his hand on his shoulders. "I have just one principle in a game and I want you to tuck it away and never forget it." "Yes, sir," said Dink reverently. "When you get in a game get fighting mad, but get cold mad--play like a fiend--but keep cold. Know just what you're doing and know it all the time." "Thank you, sir," said Dink, who never forgot the theory, which had a wider application than Garry Cockrell perhaps suspected. "You laid it on pretty strong," said Mr. Ware to Cockrell, as they walked back after practice. "I did it for several reasons," said Garry; "first, because I believe the boy has the makings of a great player in him; and second, I was using him to talk to the team. They're not together and it's going to be hard to get them together." "Bad feeling?" "Yes, several old grudges." "What a pity, Garry," said Mr. Ware. "What a pity it is you can only have second and third formers under you!" "Why so?" "Because they'd follow you like mad Dervishes," said Mr. Ware, thinking of Dink. Stover, having once perceived that the game was an intellectual one, learned by bounds. McCarty, under instructions, tried his best to provoke him, but met with the completest indifference. Dink found a new delight in the exercise of his wits, once the truth was borne in on him that there are more ways of passing beyond a windmill than riding it down. Owing to his natural speed he was the fastest end on the field to cover a punt, and once within diving distance of his man he almost never missed. He learned, too, that the scientific application of his one hundred and thirty-eight pounds, well timed, was sufficient to counterbalance the disadvantage in weight. He never loafed, he never let a play go by without being in it, and at retrieving fumbles he was quick as a cat.