We don't know how to be whipped.

I've been taught that ever since I first entered the High School." "Pshaw!" muttered Drayne, who was passing.
"Don't you believe our chances are good, Mr.Drayne ?" asked Mr.
Morton, smiling.
"I look upon the Gridley chances as being so good, sir," replied Phin, "that, if I weren't a member of the squad, and a student of the High School, I think I'd be tempted to bet all I could raise on Tottenville." "Betting is too strong a vice for boys, Mr.Drayne," replied the submaster, rather stiffly.

"And doubt of your own comrades isn't very good school spirit." "I was talking, for the moment, as an outsider," replied Phin Drayne, flushing.
"Change around then, Mr.Drayne, and consider yourself, like every other student of this school, as an insider wherever the Gridley interests are involved." Drayne moved away, a half-sneer on his face.
"I don't like that young man," muttered Mr.Morton confidentially to the young captain of the team.
"I have no violent personal admiration for him," Prescott answered.
Then the bell sounded, calling all the boys and girls back to their studies.
At just about the hour of noon, a young caller strode into the yard, paused an instant, studying the different entrances of the High School building, then kept straight on and entered.
"A visitor for Mr.Prescott, in the reception, room," announced the teacher in charge of the assembly room.
Bowing his thanks, Dick passed out of the room, crossed the hall, entered a small room, and turned to greet his caller.
A fine-looking, broad-shouldered, bronzed young man of nineteen rose and came forward, holding out his hand.
"Do you remember me, Mr.Prescott ?" asked the caller heartily.
"I've played football against you, somewhere," replied Dick, studying the other's face closely.
"Yes, I guess you have," laughed the other.

"I played with Tottenville last year.

I'm captain this season.