little time Tug's men lost in getting away after the ball had been
passed to them; how little they depended on "grand stand" plays by
the individual, and how much on team-work; how Tug's men went through
Clayton's interference as neatly as a fox through a hedge; how they
resisted Clayton's mass plays as firmly as harveyized steel; how
Clayton fumed and fretted and slugged and fouled, and threatened his
men, and called them off to hold conferences that only served to give
Tug's men a chance to get their wind after some violent play; how
Tug was everywhere at once, and played for more than the pleasure of
winning this one game--played as if he were a pair of twins, and only
smiled back when Clayton glared at him; how Punk guarded the goal from
the longest punts the varsity full-back could make, and how he kicked
the goal after all but one of the many touch-downs the scrub team
made; how little Jumbo, as quarter-back, passed the ball with never a
fumble and never a bad throw; how, when it came back to his hands,
he skimmed almost as closely and as silently and as swiftly over the
ground as the shadow of a flying bird, and made long run after long
run that won the cheers of the crowd; how B.J., Sawed-Off, and Pretty,
as right-end, center, and left-end, responded at just the right
moment, and how Pretty dodged and ran with the alertness he had
learned in many a championship tennis tournament; and how Reddy, as
left half-back, flew across the field like a firebrand, or hurled
himself into the line with a fury that seemed to have no regard for
the bones or flesh of himself or the Claytonians; how--




IV