"Speedy." Then he remembered. He felt a guilty pang. Why, he had let that kid sit there for nearly a week now.
At that moment Crawford, the varsity quarterback, faked a pass to Houghton, the right halfback, indulged in some rapid, typical Cavendish prestidigitation with the ball, foxed the opposing forwards and dashed around the end with the spheroid himself to a touchdown.
Cavendish and Trask followed the players to the goal line.
"O. K., Crawford," said Cavendish, which was as near as he ever came to complimenting anybody. "That's all the scrimmaging for to-day. Low, Blythe, Woolsey and Trask, practice drop kicking here. Start at ten yards and gradually work backwards. Candidates for center pass the balls to the kickers. The rest of you work on the tackling dummy. Get me? All right. Snap into it then!"
But Trask did not go directly to his dropkicking. He hurried across the field to Harold, who looked up with a terrible eagerness as the captain approached.
"Come over and help receive these drop kicks," ordered Chester. Harold trotted after him, a great gladness in his heart. He did not stop to realize that he was setting out upon the most menial of tasks, a job comparable
