CHAPTER X.
THE GRIDIRON START On the day of the game the midshipmen talked eagerly, and mostly of football, through dinner in the great messhall of the brigade.
"Did any one see the Hanniston infants arrive ?" demanded Page.
"Infants, eh!" called Joyce from the next table.

"That shows you didn't see the visiting eleven." "Why?
Are they of fair size ?" asked Farley.
"It took two 'buses to bring the regular eleven, besides the subs and all the howlers," retorted Joyce.

"And the regular eleven, I am reliably informed, tip the scales at four tons." "Oh, come, now, Joyce, shave off a ton or two," protested Farley.
"I won't take off more than fifty pounds, sir," retorted Joyce with mock stubbornness.

"Say! The Hanniston fellows are enormous." "Then they've run all to bones and haven't any brains," grinned Dan.
"After all, we don't mind mere bulk, for intelligence wins most of the games on the gridiron." "As to their intelligence, I can't say," admitted Joyce.

"At any rate, from the glimpse that I got of the Hans, I should say that they average two years older than our men." "Let's throw up the sponge, then," proposed Dalzell demurely.