It is in just this respect that many a High School eleven fails to “make really good.”  In a team where discipline is lax some of the fellows are sure to rebel at spending “all their time training.”  Where the coach exercises too limited authority, or when he is too “easy,” the team’s record is sure to suffer in consequence.  Many a High School eleven comes out a tail-ender just because the coach is not strict enough, or cannot be.  Many a team composed of naturally husky and ambitious boys fails on account of a light-weight coach.  On the other hand, the best coach in the country can’t make a winning eleven out of fellows who won’t work or be disciplined.

Coach Morton’s authority was unbounded.  After the team had been organized for the season it took action by the Athletics Committee of the Alumni Association to drop a man from the team.  But coach and captain could drop the offender back to the “sub” seats and keep him there.  Moreover, it was well known that Mr. Morton’s recommendation that a certain young man be dropped was all the hint that the Athletics Committee needed.

Under failing health, or when duties prevented full attention to football training, a member of the team was allowed to resign.  But an offending member couldn’t resign.  He was dropped, and in the eyes of the whole student body being dropped signified deep disgrace.

In five out of the won games Dick Prescott had played left end, and without accident.  Yet, as it was wholly possible that he might be laid up at any instant, the coach was assiduously training Dan Dalzell and Tom Reade to play at either end of the line.  Other subs were rigorously trained for other positions, but Dan and Tom were regarded as the very cream of the sub players in the light-weight positions.

Dan had played left end in one of the lesser gables, and had shown himself a swift, brilliant gridironist, though he was not quite as crafty as Prescott.

Tom Reade had less of strategy than Dan but relied more upon great bursts of speed and in the sheer ability to run away from impending tackle.

Now the boys were training for the team’s eighth game, the one to be played against the Hepburn Falls High School, a strong organization.

“Remember that a tie saves the record, but that it doesn’t look as well as a winning,” Coach Morton coaxed the squad dryly, as they started in for afternoon practice.

“We miss the mascot that the earlier High School teams used to have,” remarked Hudson.

“Yes?  What was it?” inquired coach.

“Why, bully old Dr. Thornton used to drop in for a few minutes, ’most every practice afternoon?” replied Hudson.  “I can remember just how his full, kindly old face, with the twinkling eyes, used to encourage the fellows up to the prettiest work that was in then.  Oh, he was a mascot—–­Dr. Thornton was!”

Coach Morton was of the same mind, but he didn’t say so, as it would sound like a rejection on the present unpopular principal, Abner Cantwell.