“Young gentlemen,” he fairly shouted, “I am ashamed of you! And I have come here to tell you so, and to tell you why I am ashamed.” By sight, even, he was probably a stranger to most of those who, with one accord, now stared at the little, old-fashioned figure of this invader. They straightened up. There was a rustle and a creaking of their harnessed and padded bodies. Perhaps surprise held them dumb; or perhaps they were in a humour to take a scolding, even from an outsider, feeling that they deserved it. At any rate, only one of them spoke. I think it was the voice of Gadsden, the coach, that answered back. “Who the devil are you?” he asked. “And who the devil let you in here, anyhow?” “You may not know me,” snapped the Major; “but I know you.” He wheeled on his heels, aiming a jabbing forefinger at this man and that. “And I know you--and I know you--and I know you--and you, and you, too, young sir, over there in the corner. What is more, I knew your fathers before you.” “Well, what of it?” “What of it? This much of it: Your fathers before you were gallant Southern gentlemen--the bearers of honoured names; names revered in this state and in the Southern armies. That is what your fathers were. And what have you, their sons, proved yourselves to be this day? Cravens--that is the word. Cravens! Out of all the South you were chosen to represent your native land against these Northerners; and how have you repaid the trust imposed in you? By quitting--by showing the white feather, like a flock of dunghill cockerels--by raising the white flag at the first attack!” A babble of resentful voices arose: “Say, look here; now--” “What do you know about football?” “Who gave you any license to butt in here?” “Say, that's pretty rough!” He broke into the confused chorus of their protests, silencing the interrupters by the stormy blare of his rejoinder. He was so terribly in earnest that they just had to hearken. “I know nothing of this game you have essayed to play. Before to-day I never saw it played; and if this miserable exhibition by you is a sample of the game I hope never to see it played again. But I know courage when I see it and I know cowardice when I see it.” He levelled his condemning finger at little Morehead and focused his glare upon that un-happy youth. “Your name is Morehead! Your grandfather was a great governor of this great state. Your father was my companion in arms upon the field of battle--and no braver man ever breathed, sir. This historic inclosure bears the honoured name of your honoured line--Morehead Downs. You are the chosen leader of these companions of yours. And how have you led them to-day? How have you acquitted yourself of your trust? I ask you that--how?” He halted, out of breath. “The other team is stronger. They've got us outclassed. Look--why, look at the reputation they've got all over this country! What--what chance have we against them?”