pult He broke through, and Pete Backus and Sid Henderson, who tried to tackle him, missed. Andrews was gathering his speed for a spring down the field for a touchdown, when Phil Clinton, who had circled out of the press, was after him like a shot, and after a daring tackle threw him heavily.
But, somehow or other, Phil slipped, and his foot was doubled under him. When he got up he limped painfully.
"What's the matter?" demanded Mr. Lighton, anxiously, as he ran up.
"Twisted my ankle."
"Is it sprained?"
"No, only a little. I'll be all right in a minute."
They had his shoe off in a jiffy, and massaged the ankle, but it did little good, and wanting to save his quarter-back for the big game on Saturday, Captain Woodhouse sent in Art Benson, as a substitute. Phil retired to the side lines, tears of chagrin in his eyes, but his friends comforted him with the thought that he would be all right by Saturday if he rested, while, if he didn't he couldn't play against Fairview.
The game went on, and, as if nerved by Phil's injury, the 'varsity played like fiends. They rushed the unfortunate scrub team all over the field, and rolled up more touchdowns than they
