"Now, you fellows can guess why I'm here." "You're captain of this year's football eleven," Dave replied.

"Has that anything to do with your call ?" "Everything," admitted Hepson briskly.

"Have you fellows any notion that we've a poor eleven, so far, this year ?" "Why I thought it pretty good, from the practice work that I saw done in August," Darrin answered slowly.
"A pretty good eleven doesn't win games, sir," retorted Hepson.

"Man, we've got to strengthen the team all along the line, or I'll go down in Naval Academy history as captain of the worst lot of dubs who ever chased a pigskin around the field!" "Is it as bad as that ?" demanded Dan, opening his eyes.
"Dalzell," said Hepson, "our eleven is rotten, sir--simply and fiercely useless!" "If it's as bad as that," hinted Dan innocently, "wouldn't it be a prime good idea to draw our eleven from the field this year ?" "What?
Strike the Navy's colors, and especially to the Army ?" glared Mr.
Hepson.

"What are you talking about ?" "Then I guess," nodded Dan, "that we'll have to stay in the ring, and let it go by apologizing to the Army for getting in their way on the field the Saturday after Thanksgiving." "We won't do that, either, by Jingo!" retorted Midshipman Hepson.