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Updated: May 23, 2025
Farther down, under the crest, was old Steve Brayton, alive, and at that moment perhaps asleep. "Forgive your enemies;" that was the rider's plea. Forgive old Steve, who had mocked him, and had driven Rome from the mountains; who had threatened old Gabe's life, and had shot Steve Marcum almost to death!
A pin being passed, Brayton sat down on a convenient step and tried to adjust the pin between the sole and the upper of the toe of his boot. "I can force it in a little way," admitted Brayton, "but see how the pin wobbles. It would fall out if I moved my foot hard. Some of the rest of you try it." Other cadets repeated the experiment.
"You've got a tough crowd to get by, Prescott," muttered Brayton. "But look out for signals." As Brayton bent over to snap-back, Quarterback Boyle's cool voice sounded: "Fourteen -eight -nine -three!" In another instant Boyle had made a running pass with the ball to Greg, who passed it on to Dick Prescott.
I liked that fellow, Henderson, too, though he was a powerful boaster." "All right," said Dick. "Lead on, but don't get us shot." They went cautiously through the bushes to the bank of the river, and then the sergeant blew softly between his fingers. Two figures at once appeared on the other side, and Sergeant Whitley and the boys rose up. "Mr. Brayton and Mr.
Both Lieutenant Carney and Team Captain Brayton speedily learned that they had made no mistake in getting Prescott and Holmes on to the line. A number of smaller colleges were defeated, and with rattling good scores. Dick and Greg seemed to improve with every game. True, Yale walked off with the honors, though the score, ten to six, had been stubbornly contested throughout.
But again he failed to make much of an advance with the ball. After the second "down," with barely anything gained, Brayton ordered Boyle to throw the ball over to the right of the Army line. So, in the next dash, Prescott and Holmes had but little to do. The Army lost the ball.
In their own apartments, however, they were under as little personal restraint as was compatible with their protection from the baneful habit of swallowing one another; and, as Brayton had thoughtfully been apprised, it was more than a tradition that some of them had at divers times been found in parts of the premises where it would have embarrassed them to explain their presence.
"Not quite so much like an ostrich, Mr. Prescott!" rasped out Corporal Brayton severely. Dick flushed painfully, all the more so because he heard one of the other candidates snicker. "Stop that laughing, Mr. Danvers!" commanded Corporal Brayton. Greg, in trying to get the right position, had so exaggerated it that now he found himself trembling from the strain of trying to maintain that position.
The T Up and Down was a rather small ranch, boasting not over a thousand head of cattle, but its manager, Dan Brayton, proved to be a very large man. That is, he was large around, for he was not tall.
"I wonder if it will be necessary to drum the fellow out of the class formally?" asked Anstey. "Only time can show you that," replied Brayton. "Better just wait and see what action the fellow Haynes will take for himself. He may have the sense to resign." Resign? That word was not in Haynes's own dictionary of conduct.
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