The Lakerim three, though disappointed at first, determined to show their respect for discipline, and to earn their way; so they submitted meekly, and played the best game they could on the scrub.  When the varsity captain, Clayton by name, criticized their playing in a way that was brutal,—­not because it was frank, but because it was unjust,—­they swallowed the poison as quietly as they could, and went back into the game determined not to repeat the slip that had brought upon them such a deluge of abuse.

It soon became evident, however, from the way Clayton neglected the mistakes of the pets of his own eleven, and his constant and petty fault-finding with the three Lakerimmers, that he was determined to keep them from the varsity, even if he had to keep second-rate players on the team, and even if he imperiled the Academy’s chances against rival elevens.

When this unpleasant truth had finally soaked into their minds, the Lakerimmers grew very solemn; and one evening, when the whole eleven happened to be in room No. 2, and when the hosts, Tug and Punk, were particularly sore from the outrageous language used against them in the practice of the afternoon, Punk, who was rather easily discouraged, spoke up: 

“I guess the only thing for us to do, fellows, is to pack up our duds and go back home.  There’s no chance for us here.”

Tug, who was feeling rather muggy, only growled: 

“Not on your life!  I had rather be a yellow dog than a quitter.”

Then he relapsed into a silence that reminded History of Achilles in his tent, though he was ungently told to keep still when he tried to suggest the similarity.  Reddy was fairly sizzling with rage at the Clayton faction, and sang out: 

“I move that we go round and throw a few rocks through Clayton’s windows, and then if he says anything, punch his head for him.”

This idea seemed to please the majority of the men, and they were instantly on their feet and rushing out of the door to execute their vengeance on the tyrant, when Tug thundered out for them to come back.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he said, “and one that will do us more credit.  I’ll tell you what I am going to do:  I am going to take this matter into my own hands, and drill that scrub team myself, and see if we can’t teach the varsity a thing or two.  I believe that, with a little practice and a little good sense, we can shove ’em off the earth.”

This struck the fellows as the proper and the Lakerim method of doing things, and they responded with a cheer.

III

Tug persuaded Reddy, B.J., Pretty, and Bobbles, who had not been trying for the team, to come out on the field.  He even coaxed the busy Sawed-Off into postponing some of his work for a few days to help them out.  He thus had almost the old Lakerim eleven at his command; and that very night, in that very room, they concocted and practised a few secret tricks and a few surprises for Clayton, who was neither very fertile in invention nor very quick to understand the schemes of others.