Lieutenant Carney looked, as he felt, delighted.  The spectators, all of them crazy for the Army’s success, broke into yells of joy.  Dick had done the spectacular part of the trick, but he could not have succeeded without the swift, intelligent help that Holmes had given.  Playing together, they had sprung one of the clever ruses that both had perfected back in the old Gridley days.

Haynes was furious.  He was panting.  There was an angry flash in his eyes as both teams lined up for the snap-back.

“That fellow has come out into the field just to spite me,” snarled Haynes to himself.

At the signal, the ball was snapped back, and passed swiftly to Dick.  Haynes fairly leaped into the scrimmage, as though it were deadly hand-to-hand conflict.  But Dick and Greg, with the backing of their comrades on the Army eleven, bore Haynes down to earth in the mad stampede that passed over him.  Fifteen yards more were gained, and scrub’s half-backs were feeling sore in body.

“That man Prescott is a wonder,” muttered Lieutenant Carney to a brother officer of the Army.  “Or else Holmes is.  It’s hard to say which of the pair is doing the trick.  I think both of them are.”

“How on earth, Carney, did you come to overlook that pair until now?”

“I didn’t overlook them,” retorted the Army coach.  “I had them spotted when the training first began.  But both dropped out on the claim that they feared for their standing in academy work.”

“A pair like that,” muttered Captain Courteney, “ought to be excused for any kind of recitations during the football season.  Jove!  Look at that—–­Prescott has made a touchdown”

“Prescott carried the ball,” amended Lieutenant Barney, “but Holmes certainly had as much to do with the touchdown as Prescott did.”

“They’re wonders!” cried Captain Courteney joyously.  “And to think that you didn’t have that pair out last year.”

“Both refused even to think of going into training last year,” retorted the Army coach.  “Both were keen on the bone.  But, bone or no bone, we’ve got to have them on the eleven the rest of this season.”

By the time that the afternoon’s practice was over fully fifty Army officers were on the sides, watching the work, for word had traveled by ’phone and the gathering had been a quick one.

“Prescott!  Holmes!” called Brayton sharply, after the practice was over.  “You’ll play on the Army team tomorrow.  Lieutenant Carney says so.  Prescott, yours is left end; Holmesy, you’ll expend your energies as left tackle.  Haynes, you’ll be in reserve, as a sub.”

The message to Cadet Haynes was delivered without the suspicion of a snub in it.  Almost any other man in the battalion would have accepted this wise decision without a murmur, delighted that the Army had found a better man.

Not so with Cadet Haynes.  He turned cold all over.  Not a word of reply did he offer, but turned on his heal, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands.