that fool Freshman, do you?" Cavendish snorted.
"I don't know about that. You'd be surprised how he's coming along. Stick him in a scrimmage soon as a favor to me, will you, Mike, and see what he does? Even if he wasn't getting along so well, I'd want to keep the one o'clock stuff up. I've another reason."
"Is he some relation of yours?" asked Cavendish curiously.
"No. Nothing like that. It's a very spe* cial reason."
"Oh, all right," conceded the coach. "Use your own judgment. What position is he supposed to be out for?"
"Quarterback."
"Going to grab Crawford's job, is he?" grinned Mike.
"Maybe—some day."
Tate journeyed to Massachusetts the following Saturday to meet Dahlgren Tech in the first crucial game of the season. A loyal band of some five hundred rooters chartered a Sound liner and made merry on the way to the game till the wee sma' hours of the morning. They made even merrier on the way back, for Tate trounced the strong Dahlgren team 14 to 3. Harold did not even occupy his familiar seat on the bench during this
