Neil lost it the first time it came into his hands.
"Who dropped that ball ?" thundered Mills, striding into the back-field, pushing players left and right.
"I did," answered Neil, striving to meet the coach's flashing eyes and failing miserably.
"You did?
Well, do it just once more, Fletcher, and you'll go off! And you'll find it hard work getting back again, too.

Bear that in mind, please." He turned to the others.

"Now get together here! Put some life into things! Stop that plunging right here! If the second gets another yard you'll hear from me!" "First down; two yards to gain!" called Jones, who was acting as referee.
The second came at them again, tackle-back, desperately, fighting hard.
But the varsity held, and on the next down held again.
"That's better," cried Mills.
"Use your weight, Baker!" shrieked one of the second's coaches, slapping the second's left-guard fiercely on the back to lend vehemence to the command.
"Center, your man got you that time," cried another.

"Into him now! Throw him back! Get through!" Ten coaches were raving and shrieking at once.
"Signal!" cried the second's quarter, Reardon.

The babel was hushed, save for the voice of Mills crying: "Steady! Steady! Hold them, varsity!" "_44--64--73--81!_" came Reardon's muffled voice.