"You're going to make the team." "If there's any power in me to do it," declared Dick.
"And you're going to drag me in after you.

Dick, old fellow, we've absolutely as good as promised that we will make the nine." Dick Prescott was now engaged in pulling the sweater over his head.

This accomplished, he stood surveying himself in the glass.
"Gracious! But this is fine," gasped young Prescott.

"And now, oh, Dave, but we've got to hustle! Think how disgusted the girls will be if we fail." "We can't fail, now," declared Dave earnestly.

"The girls, and the sweaters themselves, are our mascots against failure." "Good! That's the right talk!" cheered Prescott, seizing his chum's hand.