“Well, I don’t know much about the game,” said Amy, “but it seems to me that Carmine is a better quarter than Marvin.  He seems to have more ginger, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps, but Marvin’s a steadier fellow.  More dependable.  Handles punts a heap better.  Knows a lot more football than Carmine.  I like the way Carmine hustles his team, though.  I reckon Marvin will have to get a hump on him or he’ll be losing his job.”

“Which is the fellow who has your place, Clint?”

“The tall fellow on this end; just pulling his head-guard down; see him?”

“Yes.  How is he doing?”

“Mighty well, I’d say,” responded Clint ruefully.  “He’s playing better than I’ve ever seen him play all Fall.  There he goes now!  Let’s see if he gets under the ball.”

Martin had punted, a long, high corkscrew that “hung” well and then came down with a rush toward the waiting arms of Kendall.  Captain Turner had got away with Robbins at his heels, but Lee, the other end, had been sent sprawling by Edwards, of the ’varsity, and Cupples, playing right tackle, was far behind the kick.  Carmine dived at Turner as the ball settled into Kendall’s arms, and brought him down, and Robbins threw himself at the runner.  But Kendall leaped aside, spinning on a heel, and Robbins missed him badly.  It was a second team forward who finally stopped Kendall after the latter had raced across four white lines.  Amy observed Clint severely.

“Why that unholy smirk on your face?” he asked.

“I wasn’t,” denied Clint.

“You was!  It pleased you to see Robbins miss the tackle, and you needn’t deny it.  I’m surprised at you, Clint!  Surprised and pained.  You should feel sorry for the poor dub, don’t you know that?”

“Yes, I know it,” replied Clint.

“Well, are you?”

“I am not!”

“Neither am I,” said Amy, with a chuckle.  “I hope he misses ’em all and bites his tongue!”

A few minutes later the second again covered itself with glory, according to Amy, when Harris of the ’varsity skirted its left end and romped across the goal line for a third touchdown.  Amy applauded with glee and thumped Clint on the shoulder.  “Bully for our side, Clint!” he gloated.  “We’ve gone and made the ’varsity score another touchdown for us!  Oh, but we’re the snappy little heroes, what?  Let’s see if Jack can kick a goal and give us another point.  Now then!  There we go!  Did he or didn’t he?”

“He did,” replied Clint gloomily.

“Fine!  That puts the second 20 to 0, eh?  Say, you’ve got a team there to be proud of, old top!  Never again will I cast aspersions on it, or—­What’s up?  Why the—­the exodus?”

“They’re through.  Come on home.”

“Couldn’t stand the punishment any longer, eh?” asked Amy cheerfully.  “Ah, poor, disgraced, downtrodden ’varsity!  My heart bleeds for them, Clint!  I could sit me down and weep—­”