"If the brigade, here, sent a fellow to Coventry for what they considered cause, do you mean to tell me that they'd take the fellow out of Coventry just to get a good player on the eleven ?" "No, of course, not," Page admitted.
"Then do you imagine that the West Point men are any more lax in their views of corps honor ?" pressed Dave.
"To be sure they are not---they can't be." "Then there's only a chance in a thousand that Dick Prescott will, by any lucky accident, be restored to favor in the corps---at least, in time to play on this year's eleven.

If he doesn't play, Holmes simply won't play.

So that takes all the interest out of this year's Army-navy game." "Not if the Navy wins," contended Midshipman Page.
"Bosh, there's neither profit nor honor in the Navy winning, unless it's against the best men that the Army can put forth," retorted Dave Darrin stubbornly.

"By the great Dewey, I'm afraid nine tenths of my enthusiasm for the game this year has been killed by the miserable news that has come in." Within less than five minutes after the midshipmen had seated themselves around the scores of tables in the mess hall, the news had flown around that Prescott and Holmes were to be counted as out of the Army eleven for this year.
Here and there suppressed cheers greeted the announcement The bulk of the midshipmen, however, were much of Dave Darrin's opinion that there was little glory in beating less than the best team that the Army could really put forth.
"Darry looks as though he had just got back from a funeral," remarked one member of the third class to another youngster.
"I don't blame him," replied the one so addressed.
"But he's all the more sure of winning over the Army this year." "I don't believe either of you youngsters know Darrin as well as I do," broke in a second classman.

"What I'm afraid of is, if Prescott and Holmes don't play with the soldiers, then Darry will lose interest in the game to such a degree that even Army dubs will be able to take his shoestrings away from him.