exhausted as he might naturally feel at the end of a hard game. And Jackson, it was evident, had not yet begun to tire.
In the athletic house Edward doused his head with water and then lay on his back on the floor with his eyes closed. He wished that Blanchard would n’t find it necessary to talk; he felt that what would do him most good would be to snatch five minutes’ sleep. Oh, if he had not lost those precious hours during the night! But Blanchard came up and sat beside him, and assured him that he was playing splendidly, and that in the next half St. Timothy’s would score.
Edward, without opening his eyes, smiled a weary assent.
“Now,” Blanchard said, addressing the eleven, “I’ll tell you what I want you to do, fellows. It’s our kick-off this half, and we have the wind with us. We’ve got to keep St. John’s from running the ball back; when they kick we must get the ball inside their forty-yard line. And then we’re off for a touchdown. We can score in the first five