But now he was feverishly eager, and the rebuffs he took from the annoyed Clancy only exasperated him.
It was hardly an opportune moment, however, to talk dreams and omens.
Merry was wrapped up in a practice game of football, and was alternately scrutinizing players and hastily jotting down notes with a pencil.
Clancy was not making any memoranda, but snappy work on the gridiron was claiming his full attention.

With a sigh of resignation, Ballard bottled up his remarks and sat back on the hard boards.
Only Merry and his two chums were in the grand stand.

The practice game was between the regular Ophir Athletic Club eleven and a scrub team.

It had been put on for Frank's exclusive benefit.
For two straight years the O.A.C.had gone down to inglorious defeat before their rivals from Gold Hill--thirty-six to nothing on last Thanksgiving Day--and the sting of those defeats had made Ophir pessimistic and their eleven a joke.

Another Thanksgiving Day was less than two months ahead, and the Ophir fellows were turning to Merriwell for help.