CHAPTER IX.
Could Dave Make Good?
Dave Darrin, a good deal disheveled and covered with soil and perspiration on his face and neck, came striding in after time had been called on the first half.
Dave's generalship had kept Hallam Heights from scoring, but Gridley hadn't put away any points, either.
"You saw it all from the side lines, Dick ?" Dave asked, as the chums, arm in arm, strolled into dressing quarters.
"Yes." "What are your instructions for the second half." "I haven't any." "Your advice, then ?" "I haven't any of that, either.

Dave, any fellow who can hold those young human cyclones back as you've done doesn't need any pointers in the game." "But we simply couldn't score against them," muttered Darrin.
"So I know there's something wrong with my leadership.

What is it ?" "Nothing whatever, Darrin.

It simply means that you're up against the hardest line to get through that I've ever seen Gridley tackle.
Why, yesterday I was looking over the record of these Hallam boys, and I find that they've already whipped two college second teams.

But you'll get through them in the next Dave, if there's any human way of doing it.