nents were preventing the visitors from running up a score.
"That dummy Hollister," lamented Cavendish, pacing like a caged tiger in front of the bench. "Why does he keep sending plays at the center? I told him to open up the play. Start his forward passing. He's hopeless."
Mike's ire at the Senior, who had been calling his signals in a small choking voice noticed even in the Tate stands and had as yet failed to inject himself into a single play offensive or defensive, mounted to red-hot heights at the beginning of the fourth quarter, when the unfortunate quarterback fumbled a punt and let a blue sweater recover the ball. Tate held again, and again Union State punted. A groan went up from the excited Tate stands as Hollister fumbled again. He was simply too nervous even to distinguish the ball clearly in the air.
A Union State player, unable to check himself even after the quarterback lost the ball, bumped into Hollister and knocked him down. For a moment the Senior lay prostrate. Harold Lamb at once jumped up from the bench and rushed over to Coach Cavendish. The coach would have to send him in now!
Harold pushed close to the coach and looked at him eager, expectantly.
Cavendish shoved him away impatiently.
