their last signal practice under the watchful eye of Mike Cavendish.
"That's all," said Mike shortly. "Lamb and Childers, come here." Harold and the big scrub fullback walked over to the coach. "Childers, go down the field fifty yards and take this kick. Run it back. Lamb, you tackle him."
Harold understood at once. The coach, never having seen this ex-joke Freshman in scrimmage, was having a last-minute try-out. From behind Cavendish, Harold could catch the anxious eye of Chester Trask. Harold gritted his teeth, braced himself and faced the heavy, bullet-like Childers, the man who was spoken of as Trask's logical successor at varsity fullback. Cavendish, with an ease and proficiency that was a credit to him, punted the ball. Childers took it nicely on the fly and started up the field like a rifle shot. Nearing Harold, he cut sharply to the right. But the Freshman was not to be denied. All the weeks of Trask's coaching were telling him how to handle himself. He darted after Childers, neared him, dived under the fullback's vicious straight-arm and felled him cleanly and finally.
Cavendish and Trask exchanged a significant glance.
"Don't mean a thing," Cavendish snorted
