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Updated: June 16, 2025
In the first few seconds his assault was so resolute that Dalzell was forced to give ground. As he slowly retreated and shifted, Jetson drove in more impetuously than ever. Midshipman Dan found himself at last in a position of advantage. "Now, hammer him, Danny boy!" advised; Farley, breathing deeply. "Silence among the spectators," warned Hepson in a low, stern voice.
Then Midshipman Hepson, after a brief conference with the head coach, called off the line-up for the provisional Navy team, following this with a roster of the second team, or "Rustlers," so called because they force the men of the Navy team to rustle to keep their places. Dave Darrin was called off for left tackle, Dan for left end.
"Fellow, stop this talk!" commanded Hepson, almost at a white heat of resentment, "Among midshipmen and gentlemen there can be no thought of what you term 'dirty work. The fact that you won't play with us is due to your uncontrollable temper. A fellow who can't control his nerves and temper isn't fitted to play football a game that requires cool judgment at every moment of the game."
"Is it as bad as that?" demanded Dan, opening his eyes. "Dalzell," said Hepson, "our eleven is rotten, sir simply and fiercely useless!" "If it's as bad as that," hinted Dan innocently, "wouldn't it be a prime good idea to draw our eleven from the field this year?" "What? Strike the Navy's colors, and especially to the Army?" glared Mr. Hepson. "What are you talking about?"
"Sir, do you realize " "I realize that you're still talking!" sneered Jetson. "Then I won't talk any longer," replied Dave Darrin in a quiet but dangerous voice. "Since you refuse to listen even to Hepson " "Who's taking my name in vain?" demanded a laughing voice as a burly figure moved in between Dave and his enemy. The new comer was Hepson, who had come upon the group unnoticed.
Suddenly Jetson raised one of his feet quickly, as though to kick Dave in the belt line. "Here, stop that!" cried Hepson and Joyce in the same breath, as they sprang forward. Darrin, seeing others interfere, didn't attempt to strike back, but merely stepped aside. That was the chance for which Jetson had been watching.
Then Dan took a try, covering the distance in only two fifths of a second more time than Darrin had required. Then six more men were called to the line and tried out. After that a third squad. By this time Midshipman Hepson had his mind about made up as to the relative speeds of some of the most likely men for the final Navy team. "Get out for some kicks, now!" called Hepson.
Darrin!" came hoarsely; from hundreds of throats. "Dalzell! Dalzell!" came the next gusty roar. Hepson wiped a moist brow with one hand. "There are two real players, if they can keep that up," muttered the captain of the eleven. Jetson had been the tackle opposed to Dave. Just now Jetson was nursing a bump to his vanity. "How on earth did I ever happen to let Darrin through?"
"Principally, I imagine, because Captain Hepson, after consultation with the coaches, didn't call you to the Navy eleven." "And why didn't Hepson call me?" followed up Jetson, all his pent-up sulkiness boiling over now. "I don't know, particularly. Probably, I imagine, for the same reason that he didn't call a lot of other men to the eleven because he believed he could make a better choice."
Then wheeling suddenly: "How did Darrin come to get cut in that fashion, anyway! Mr. Jetson, do you know anything about it?" "What do you mean, sir?" demanded Jetson, bridling. "Do you insinuate that I tried to put a scar on Mr. Darrin's face?" "I asked you what you knew about the accident if it were an accident?" Hepson pursued coldly. "Your 'if, sir, is insulting!"
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