CHAPTER VIII.
DAN TRIES HARD TO KEEP COOL A surgeon and a hospital man were quickly on the spot, the others, anxious as they were, drawing back considerately to give the men of medicine room in which to work.
As Dave Darrin was gently turned over on his back it was seen that Damn's face was a mass of blood.
"Jetson's work," grunted two or three of the players.
"He did it on purpose!" "If he didn't, then the fellow is too clumsy to be trusted on the gridiron, anyway." "We must chase Jetson away from the squad." "Silence!" remarked Head Coach Havens, very simply, though in a tone which meant that obedience must follow.
Jetson, however, was not ignorant of the comments that were passing.

His dark face flushed hotly with anger.
"They'll blame anything on me, if I'm within a mile of the field," he told himself sullenly.
"Is Mr.Darrin badly injured, doctor!" inquired Lieutenant-Commander Havens of the Naval surgeon.
"I think not, sir, beyond a possibly nasty mark on the face," replied the surgeon, as he examined and directed the hospital men.

"Mr.Darrin is merely stunned, from too hard an impact of some sort.

He'll soon have his eyes open--there they come now." As if to back up the surgeon, Dave opened his eyes, staring curiously at the faces within his range of vision.
"What's all this fuss about ?" Dave asked quietly.
"There isn't any fuss, Mr.Darrin," replied the surgeon.

"You were stunned by the force of that scrimmage, and there's some blood on your face." "Let me wipe it off then, please, sir ?" Dave begged.