hurled back. Twice they tried it, and on the third down they kicked—no fake affair now.
The 'varsity had the ball again. Phil did not try Pete this time, but gave the leather to Sid, who, like an old time warrior, lowered his head and plunged into the line for three yards.
"Come on! Come on!" yelled Phil, pushing and pulling on his chum to help him through. There was a mass of crowding, struggling players all about Sid. The scrub, with desperate energy, tried to stem the progress of the human tide. Still Sid worked on, worming to get every inch, and he broke through the scrub line, staggered on and on, and when he was finally downed, with half a dozen of the players clinging to him like hounds to a stag, he had gained three yards, through a hard defense.
"Wow! Wow!" yelled Bean Perkins.
"That's what I ought to have done, I suppose," murmured Pete, regretfully, as he saw what a gain Sid had made.
"Oh, you'll do it yet," said Tom consolingly. "It takes a little practice. Those fellows are out for blood to-day. A lot of them are hoping to get on our team."
"Well, they won't!" declared Pete, and when he was given a chance with the ball a little later, he tore through for a two-yard gain in great fashion.
