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Updated: May 16, 2025
"We'd lay down our lives for the Navy, at any point and in any sort of game," rejoined Dave Darrin simply. "Good! Bully! That's the way I like to hear a fellow talk!" glowed Hepson, making toward the door. "You'll turn out for practice to-morrow afternoon?" "Without fail, if we're physically able," promised Midshipman Darrin.
"Dalzell," retorted Hepson impatiently, "you're a second classman, and you've been here long enough to know that no considerations of discipline will be made to stand aside in order that the Navy may have a better athletic team of any kind. Nothing here is sacrificed to athletics, and you surely must know it." "Then I guess we're dished," confessed Dalzell mournfully.
Most of the members of the brigade were back in Bancroft Hall, and this being late Saturday afternoon, study was over save for those who felt the need of devoting extra time to their books. "Hepson was nearly crazy this afternoon," remarked Joyce, laughing. "Then he had an easy way of concealing the fact," Dave replied. "I call him a cool football captain, with plenty of judgment and patience."
"Not because you're going to be weak, but because we've got to have you under our eyes all the time if your face is to heal without a bad scar." Midshipman Darrin brought his hand up in salute to the surgeon, and again to Lieutenant-Commander Havens. "Darrin laid up for a few days!" growled Captain Hepson, of the Navy team, just after Dave had started. "Now, when every day's work counts!"
Midshipman Jetson threw up his hands, but Darrin's right fist landed across his offending mouth with such force as to fell the sulky midshipman flat to the earth. Having struck the blow, Midshipman Darrin stepped back, to give his opponent an unobstructed chance to rise to his feet. "What's this all about?" demanded Midshipman Hepson wonderingly.
"Oh, then, I'll invite myself to a chair," declared the first classman, suiting the action to the word. "Now, you fellows can guess why I'm here." "You're captain of this year's football eleven," Dave replied. "Has that anything to do with your call?" "Everything," admitted Hepson briskly. "Have you fellows any notion that we've a poor eleven, so far, this year?"
"I known Noomarket an' Hascot an' Hepson, an' all the places where swells goes in England," said Jockey Bill, enthusiastically; "but never one come there as pretty as she, stop my license if ther' did." "Grand eyes, hain't she?" said Tommy Dartmoor. "Regular fust-water 'uns. Here's to 'em!" "And-a-hoof! See it peep below her gownd. S' welp me ef it wer' es big as my 'bacca-box!"
By this time the surface wound on his face was healing nicely, and with ordinary care he would soon be without sign of scar. "Well, you don't need to bump anything," replied Dan quietly. "Hepson wants you on the gridiron the worst way, but he has told me that he won't even allow you to get into togs until Pills has certified that you're fit to play."
"I don't suppose you can guess what we came to talk about?" went on Midshipman Hepson. "At a wild guess it might be football," hazarded Darrin. "Wonderful! Marvelous!" gasped another visitor. "Darry, we've come in to tell you that we believe that you and your erratic roommate are going to save a desperate situation for us," resumed the captain of the Navy team.
We've got to make a front-rank team out of nearly nothing!" "Aren't there any good players who have been holding back?" asked Dave Darrin. "Two that I know of, Darrin," rejoined Hepson, fixing his eyes keenly on Dave. "Who are they?" "You and Dalzell." "We haven't backed out, or refused duty," Darrin retorted quickly. "No; but you haven't pushed yourselves forward any, either."
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