Been feeling a trifle rusty since you've all been taking to jumping on my neck."

"Never

Percy gives his friend a pat on the shoulder. mind, old man, watch and wait; that's my motto. Maybe something'll turn up yet."

Of late Percy has had a presentiment that James is going to be brought around in time. "George," he had said, "I have a feeling in my heart; I can't explain it, but it's there, just the same, that something will turn up yet, before it's too late, so that Jim will come back into the game." "By the way, Jim," continued Percy, as they were walking over toward the Gym, "what's there in this latest Californian yarn that a certain recalcitrant had a good chance to go back into the game and wouldn't take it?"

"Oh, about the same proposition as the others I told you of. I won't play football on those terms. It means either that I turn professional and take charity, or that I mortgage my next year's prospects for the privilege of playing football for a few weeks. That's not what I came to college for. This fellow - he was a middle-aged chap- told me that I could draw on him for my expenses for the rest of the term if I'd throw my job up and go back into the practice. He said he was an alumnus, but couldn't reveal the source of the offer until I'd pledged to accept."

"I bet he meant business, Jim. If you only weren't so hanged particular," sighed Percy.

The big game was now less than three weeks off, and this was the first of several final rallies to intensify college spirit and strengthen the players in the feeling that they had a united student body behind them. Downstairs the rooters reigned supreme. Upstairs were the quiescent

co-eds and the outsiders.

President, faculty, coaches, team and "prominent students' occupied the positions of honor. What, with the band and the rooters, with their yells and choruses, the very rafters vibrated and the co-eds' eyes blinked.

Over and over again thundered out the California yell, "Oski-Wow-Wow," "What's the matter with this fellow?" or Three cheers for the other fellow." "Palms of Victory," too, and "California's bound to win."

There's a banner bright of blue and gold which

proudly we display!

There's a peerless team whose prowess fills the red-
shirts with dismay !

There's a mighty chorus thund'ring from the campus
to the bay,

California's bound to win!

We'll shout for dear old California!

Shout for dear old California!

We'll shout for dear old California!
California's bound to win!

Between these interludes the speakers arose and delivered short, inspiring addresses. President, professors, baldheaded alumni reviewed the various aspects of the situation, told how they used to do it, and called upon the whole college to stand behind the team. Garrett got up, in response to cries of "Garrett, Garrett, we want Garrett!" and stood, embarrassed, while the rooters slowly intoned:

Here's to you, friend Garrett!

Here's to you, my jovial friend!

And we'll drink before this God-forsaken company!
We'll drink before we part!

Here's to you, friend Garrett !

Garrett was a man of action, rather than of words, and

"We have a good

he stood nervously fingering his cap. team that is going to do its best to win. I know that every man will play for all that's in him. We can't say positively that our team will win, but it won't be its fault if it loses. The team can't win the game alone. You have to give it your united support. It has to feel that every student in college is behind it. It is for you, really, to win the game or lose it by the way you back up the team."

The next call was for Captain Hawley. Several other prominent players followed him. Finally, when everybody scheduled had said his say, their friends began to push "prominent students" up to the platform.

Among these arose Holland. No word to mar the perfect harmony of the occasion had yet been spoken, and it was farthest from the thought of the audience that such a word would be uttered on such an occasion. Holland began, as the others had, with a “jolly." Then he paused abruptly and coughed.

"It is with reluctance that I mention a subject not in perfect harmony with this gathering. But I think it is my duty to do so, if thus I can bring an individual to a sense of his responsibility, of what is meant by the words 'college spirit.' The team lacks one player to perfect its organization. There is one in college competent to fill the position, or at least in a way to become competent. He is skulking in his tent. We know not why. Is it caprice? Is it what they call cold feet! Or is it simply holding out for a price? Nobody but himself knows. I call upon a united college opinion to make this student realize that there are duties he owes to his college- that he is not here to get all he can and return nothing!"

Holland stepped down, flushed and panting. A few hands were clapped and a few hisses were heard. But the main body of the audience, even the rooters, maintained an amazed, uncomfortable silence, not knowing just what to think of the sudden squall that had blown up.

James felt himself grow hot to the roots of his hair, and he clenched his fists. "The spiteful scrub! Let me get at him!" And he was for jumping forward in his rage. "Steady, Jim." Percy laid a restraining hand on his friend's shoulder. "There goes Dick to take him up.”

Hawley had listened to Holland's speech with amazement and disgust. He knew that Holland had small opinion of James as a player, had heard him express it, and saw that he was merely trying to get even. The captain realized that such a speech would strengthen Rawson in his decision not to come back. So he jumped on the platform. "Good boy, Hawley!" "What's the matter with

Dick Hawley?" came the cry.

"I am sorry that anything has been said to mar the good fellowship of our rally. We all know who the student in question is. He has earned the respect of everybody who has met him, as a man and as a football player. If he had kept on, he would have been a tower of strength to the team by the end of the season. As captain, there was no man sorrier than myself to see him pull out of the game just when we needed him most. But we must allow that every man ought to know his own business best. When he, as a gentleman, explains his reason for dropping out, we, as gentlemen, ought to accept it. Maybe California will lose let us not blame it on the man who would, I know, kick for us if he could."

on account of her kicking, but

Cheers and shouts punctuated Hawley's speech. The rooters were trying to yell the unpleasant incident out of the crowd's mind. In a lull Percy jumped up, and waving his cap, shouted: "Three cheers for Jim Rawson!" In the midst of the demonstration James slipped from his seat, unnoticed by Percy, and was soon in the open air.

For a while Rawson strode along, unconscious of his surroundings, not knowing where he was going. He turned alternately hot and cold as he dwelt on the happenings of the last few minutes. He could not think coherently. A series of images was flashing through his mind. One, most prominent and continually reverting, that of Holland's cold, sneering face as he stood upon the platform heaping indignity and insult upon him, James Rawson. "I'll get even with the cur, all right."

But by and by the heat subsided to a more grateful warmth as the picture of Hawley on the platform recurred. And the cheers that had followed. "The fellows saw that Holland was merely trying to do me dirt." Hawley's words of confidence came back, but with them the captain's doubt: "It is possible that California will lose on account of her kicking."

This thought gave James pause. It marked the turning point in his view of the situation. He asked himself if he had done quite the right thing after all. If the college really needed him (dear old college that was putting such fine things in his way-that was opening up an entirely new life to him), ought he not to have cast about for some means, made some sacrifice, in order to help out? This thought took firmer and firmer hold. "I guess I could have found a way, all right, if I hadn't been so much taken