Coach Cade was back on Monday for dinner, and to one or two especially observant members of the squad he looked more grim and determined than usual. Instead of sending the squad out to the field at three-thirty that afternoon he talked to them in the gymnasium for some twenty minutes. First he took up Saturday’s game and went through it exhaustively, pointing out mistakes and short-comings. He started with center and worked through guards, tackles, ends and backs, and it was surprising how many faults he managed to mention. Finally he said: “Now, fellows, I’m going to talk plain. We are all in this together. If I fail in my duties it affects you, and if you fail it comes back on me. You want to win your games and I want you to, and if you’re to do it you and I have got to team up and pull side by side from now on. There’s no getting around the fact that so far we’ve made a poor showing. You will have to look back over the Alton football records for many years before you’ll find a season as disappointing as this has been so far. We’ve played four games and won just one. Not only that but, against pretty weak teams, we’ve managed to score only 40 points to the opponents’ 31. You don’t need to have me tell you that there’s something wrong somewhere. I wish I could tell you what it is, but I can’t. I’m willing to assume half the responsibility, though, for I have a hunch that I know one way in which I’ve failed this fall. I’ll take that up in a minute. What I’m getting at now is that it’s up to all of us to face the situation and determine to get the best of it. It’s a time for drastic measures, and I want you to realize it. We can’t defeat Kenly Hall if we keep on the way we’re going. I’m certain of that, and those of you who have played here in other seasons know it too. All right, then. We’ve got to stop taking things for granted and prove them. That’s what we’ve been doing, fellows, taking things for granted. Both of us. That’s the mistake I spoke of a minute ago. You are taking it for granted that you’re going to be able to play winning football when you get up against Kenly. Probably you know yourselves capable of it. I think you are capable of it. I’m taking it for granted, too. That is, I have been. Beginning to-day, though, I’m not.”

He paused and looked over the half circle of puzzled faces before he continued. “Beginning to-day, fellows, no one is going to hold a position on this team because he filled it last season, or because he thinks himself entitled to it through previous service, or because he shows promise. Nor for any other reason save just one, which is that he proves conclusively to my satisfaction that he is the best man for the job. This goes from top to bottom, from Captain Lowe to the greenest man on the squad. Captain Lowe may be the best man for the right guard position; probably he is; but he’s got to show us, you and me both. So on right through the line-up. You may be all you think you are, all you ought to be, all I’ve been accepting you as, but, by golly, you’ve got to prove it. No position is sacred any longer, fellows. If Smith wants Jones’ job all he’s got to do is go and get it. It’s his if he can play a better brand of football than Jones. Theoretically this has always been the rule here, this year as well as other years, just as it is the general rule at other schools and colleges. Actually, however, it hasn’t been working very thoroughly, and that’s my fault. Some of you have—well, hypnotized is the best word I can think of—have hypnotized me into accepting you at your own valuation, into thinking as you do that you own your positions. Well, yesterday I woke up. I saw that I’d been taking far too much for granted. Here’s where I stop being an easy mark, fellows. And here’s where all mortgages are canceled. How’s that hit you?”

Some of the countenances before him looked rather dazed, others showed grins, but no one replied for an instant. Then Captain Lowe said calmly: “Suits me, Coach!” And other murmured agreements followed.

“Good! We’ve got material here plenty good enough to build a winning team out of, fellows. Let’s do it. Let’s start to-day and build from the bottom up. There’s time enough. The material’s seasoned, only the arrangement will be new. Wistar, got a sheet of paper handy? All right. Put down the names of the fellows, all of them, and classify them as usual: linemen, ends, backs; and let me have the list when we go out. There’s one more thing I want to speak of. There’s been far too much fumbling going on. A certain amount of it’s to be expected at this season, but we’ve been overdoing it. Saturday’s game was lost through a fumble, and there were two others which, while recovered fortunately enough, shouldn’t have occurred. I want to get rid of that stuff, and if necessary I’ll go back to a half-hour of passing every afternoon. But I think it’s possible to cure weak fingers in another way. You’ll remember how in the poem of The Ancient Mariner the man who shot the albatross had it tied around his neck as punishment. Well, I propose to adopt a somewhat similar plan. After this too many fumbles will result in the offender carrying a football around with him wherever he goes: classes, meals, off the campus, everywhere; and at night it will sit beside him on a chair at the head of his bed. This isn’t an original idea; it’s been tried before; but I think it ought to work. Will you fellows agree to it and make it effective?”

Agreement was hearty. The idea amused them and, since the discourse had hitherto been too serious to allow of levity, they laughed uproariously. Mr. Cade smiled, too, but the smile was rather grim.

“That’s all, fellows,” he said. “Let’s go out and make up for lost time.”

That afternoon practice went off as usual on a Monday, with the accent on formation drill and the players in Saturday’s game being excused thereafter. The Second Team engaged a team of substitutes and won handily in two ten-minute periods. Bert played right half in the first period and gave way to Keys in the second. Neither of them performed any deeds calculated to raise their stock, yet Bert found encouragement in the fact that Coach Cade had selected him to start the scrimmage. That made it look as if in the coach’s estimation he and Keys were about on a par.

A rather garbled and exaggerated version of Mr. Cade’s remarks circulated about school that evening, and the reactions were varied. Many dubbed the scheme as suicidal, declaring it too late in the season to start a reorganization of the team. Others favored the plan, sometimes remarking vindictively that it would serve some of those swelled-heads about right if they lost their positions. Then still others met the news with a pessimistic shrug. It didn’t much matter, they thought, what Coach Cade did. In any event the team was too rotten to be saved and another defeat at the hands of Kenly Hall was inevitable.

Tommy Parish got the tidings from his room-mate, Billy Pillsbury. Pill was much excited and predicted disaster. Tommy said: “Soak your head, Pill. Johnny’s got the right idea at last. I was wondering how long it would take him to tumble to himself.”

Pill stared incredulously. “Aw, get out, Tommy! You never thought of it! I suppose you’ll be saying next thing that you suggested it to Johnny!”

Tommy shrugged. “No, I didn’t suggest it to him, but I might have. All fall fellows like Andy Dozier and Hop Meecham and others I could name have been sitting pretty and doing just enough to get by. They sure had Johnny buffaloed! They couldn’t have done it another season, but this year Johnny has too much on his mind.”

“How do you mean?” asked Pill, impressed in spite of his determination not to be. “What’s he got on his mind?”

Tommy winked soberly. “A girl,” he answered.

“Oh, piffle! That’s just a yarn. Some fellow saw a photograph on Johnny’s mantel and started that stuff.”

“All right, Mister Wisenheimer, you know it all. But you just wait and see. Pshaw, I know the signs! I’ve got brothers and sisters, Pill, and I know how they act when they’ve got the bug. It’s fierce!”

“Well, even if that’s so,” said Pill, “Johnny’s making a bull. You can’t make over a football team right in the middle of the season. Gosh, what do you suppose will happen if he gets to monkeying with some of the guys? They’ll get mad and quit on him cold!”

“Don’t you be alarmed,” answered Tommy calmly. “There won’t be as many changes as you might think, son. Let some of those fellows get it into their beans that they’re going to lose their positions if they don’t brace up and they’ll brace, take it from me! Bet you there won’t be four changes in the whole line-up between now and the big game! What will happen, Pill, is that the whole bunch of loafers will get onto themselves and do an honest day’s work now and then! You watch, young Pill.”

The immediate result was a rather different line-up on Tuesday when scrimmage began. Kruger had Tate’s place at left end, Nat Wick was at left guard in lieu of Meecham, Toby Shelfer played right end, and Fitz Savell had Storer’s job at half-back. As the game progressed other changes were made. Howard went in for Haines at right tackle, a practically unknown youth named Walsh sent Jim Galvin out and Bert relieved Pete Ness at right half. Nor was Mr. Cade through even then, for, when the scrimmage was almost over, he grabbed a tackle from the Scrubs and put him in Andy Dozier’s place. Results were not easy to judge, but at least the First showed more downright fight than it had exhibited for some time. It pushed the Scrub down the field for sixty yards in the last period and finally hurled Walsh through for a score. Since the Scrub had met with a stronger resistance than usual that touchdown represented the day’s scoring.

On Wednesday Mr. Cade used two teams against the Second, one for each ten-minute period, and each grabbed off a touchdown. Bert played right through on the second line-up—it was difficult to say whether it was Mr. Cade’s second choice or his first, regulars and substitutes were so mixed together—and got a nice thirty-yard romp on one occasion that might have resulted in a score if Don Riding, playing quarter, had not fumbled. Back in the locker room that afternoon the expressions of doubt and even consternation on some of the faces might have amused a disinterested bystander. Jake, the trainer, came nearest to that character, and Jake smiled more than once while he administered to contusions and strains and listened to the talk.

It became noised about on Thursday that Mr. Cade would pick the team to play Oak Grove according to the performances that afternoon, and not even Tommy Parish could—or did—complain of indifference or lassitude on the part of the candidates. Some of the regulars—or those who had been regulars—moved around with the nervous, anxious alacrity of new hands, trying to impress the coach with their energy and ambition against the time when the line-up for the scrimmage with the Scrub should be announced. Even Captain Jonas looked almost perturbed at moments. He had heartily agreed to Mr. Cade’s plan, but he sometimes wished he hadn’t. Jonas wasn’t used to trying to impress folks as being eager and full of pep! It came hard!

Mr. Cade drove the First hard that afternoon, and almost every fellow on the squad saw service before the end. Second was given the ball on the First’s thirty-yard line a number of times and told to rush it, field-goals being barred. Once the Scrub scored on a short pass over the line, but the other times she was forced to yield the ball short of the goal. She was on her mettle to-day and the First Team linemen underwent some hard knocks. For that matter, so did the backs, for there was a weak place on the left of the line that continued all during the scrimmage, and more than once it was the secondary defense that stopped the runner. Bert played for some six or eight minutes in the last period, and, although First was showing what she could do on attack during most of that time, he was used pretty roughly and finally emerged with a fine large welt under one eye. As an exhibition of playing Thursday’s performance was distinctly encouraging, but as an indication of what Saturday’s line-up was to be it was a failure. Even on Friday the coach used three or four men for every position, and surprised his charges by staging a fifteen-minute scrimmage against the Scrub. Certainly Oak Grove was not a fearsome opponent, but such hard work the day before a game was well-nigh unprecedented. It was on Friday that Bert flashed for an instant when, pulling down a twelve-yard forward-pass over the right of the line, he squirmed and fought onward for sixteen more before superior weight and numbers brought him down. In that run he showed a really remarkable ability for eluding tacklers and throwing off tackles, for he went through half a dozen of the enemy and squirmed away from others like a greased pig. And yet, some two minutes later, when the same play was repeated he failed badly at getting into position for the catch and the ball was plucked out of the air by the Scrub full-back. Fortune, it seemed, was a fickle goddess!

Chick was difficult to live with during the closing days of that week, for he had been spending much of his time on the bench and resented it bitterly. Bert’s reminder that a lot of the others were faring the same way and that, once Mr. Cade got through experimenting, they’d probably all be back in place again failed of the soothing effect it was designed to produce. Chick didn’t think well of experiments, and said so in unmistakable language. “What’s it getting him?” he demanded that Friday evening. “He’s tried Shelfer and Nast and Savell, and not one of them has played the position as well as I do. Oh, maybe Savell, yes, but he’s not such a wonder on defense. He got boxed finely a couple of times to-day. Johnny will put me back there finally, and he knows it plaguy well, so what’s the use of letting me miss practice? I haven’t been in once when that Number 14 play was tried. They’ll use it to-morrow and then wonder what’s wrong if I don’t get the right man!”

“I don’t believe he’s in earnest about Fitz Savell,” said Bert. “He wouldn’t spoil a corking good back.”

“Of course not! Then what’s the good of making believe? He’s just losing time. The whole truth of the matter is that Johnny’s up in the air and doesn’t know what to do about it. So he’s just fiddling around in the hope that he will light on something. If he would teach us about four good scoring plays and quit monkeying with his delayed passes and fake kicks we’d deliver the goods, I’ll bet!”

“That Number 14 looks pretty good, though, Chick. It fooled the Scrub all right yesterday and to-day.”

“The Scrub? Sure! But just let him try it against a wide-awake team like Mt. Millard a week from now. Why, they’ll eat it up, Bert! There’s nothing new about it. It’s old stuff to them, I’ll bet.”

“No, it isn’t new,” said Bert, “but I heard Ted say that it has new features.”

“Tackle coming around and going through with the two halfs may be new, but I don’t believe it makes the play any better. Besides, what’s the idea of working it from a shift? You can do the same thing from regular formation. Shucks, I’ve been seeing that old trick ever since I was knee-high!”

“I guess what you can call new plays aren’t to be had any more, Chick.” Bert was glad enough to argue this matter out if only to keep Chick away from his grievance. “Most everything’s been done already, and about all a coach can hope to do is dress an old play up in new togs so it’ll look like a stranger. I don’t believe Johnny will let us use that Number 14 to-morrow, anyway. I think he’s going to save it for Kenly.”

“He’s pretty sure to try it on Mt. Millard, because Mt. Millard will take a lot of licking, old scout. And I’ll bet Mt. Millard will love it to death, too! Anyway, if he does use it to-morrow it won’t be my fault if I flub it. He hasn’t worked me in it once.”

“Oh, you can’t miss, Chick. Defending left half’s your meat. All you do is block him off.”

“Just the same, I should have been in on it at least once,” responded Chick, evidently determined to be displeased. “No fellow can learn a play just by watching it from the bench or tagging along with the gallery!”

But, as it turned out, Chick needn’t have worried himself, for the next afternoon at two-forty-five Mr. Cade gave out the line-up for the Oak Grove game and Chick wasn’t mentioned.