"I awfully want to play in the fifteen." "We're a man short," said Yorke.

"You can play, Corder." "If you dare to come and play," said Dangle, still in a whisper, "you'll find it so precious hot for yourself afterwards that you'll be sorry for it." "Yorke says I may play," persisted Corder; "I don't see why I shouldn't." "Cad! traitor! blackleg!" yelled Percy and Co., as they saw their man mount the coach.
"Ha, ha! got _one_ man among you who isn't a coward and a sneak, and-- and a howling kid!" retorted Wally.

"Gee up!" Whereat the whips cracked and the happy party drove off.
Corder was one of those obtuse youths who can never take in more than one idea at a time.

His present idea was football.

He had come up this term with a consuming ambition to get into the fifteen, and had played hard and desperately to secure his end.