"Achilles? What cla.s.s was he in, then?" demanded Waite. "I don't remember the name."

"He was in a cla.s.s of his own, at the siege of Troy," volunteered Farley.

"Troy, N.Y.?" inquired Waite.

"If you keep on, Waite," muttered Farley, "someone will have to give you an ancient history book at Christmas. You don't seem well posted on Greek tales."

"Don't have to be, thank goodness," returned Waite, helping himself to another piece of beef. "Greek isn't on the list here."

There was abundant time for rest before the game. The players and subs, for the Navy team, however, were early at dressing quarters.

Jetson hadn't been called as one of the subs., so he walked sulkily and alone through the grounds while most of the midshipmen strolled, about in groups.

Half an hour before the time for the game the spectators' seats held fair-sized crowds. At that time the Naval Academy Band began to play, just to keep the waiting ones more patient.

Ten minutes later the Hanniston players came on to the field at a slow trot. Instantly the Hanniston howlers in the audience began to whoop up the noise. The midshipmen joined in cheers, and then the band took up the music again.

At first sight of the visitors, some of the Navy people began to have their doubts about victory. The Hannistons surely were "bulky." In size and age, the visitors were as formidable as any of the college elevens.

Many of the midshipmen, too, recalled what they had heard Waite say at table. It seemed little wonder that the popular odds were against the middies.

But the band, having played its welcome to the Hannistons, who were now chasing a ball over the field in practice, almost immediately switched off into the strains of "See, the Conquering Hero Comes!"

All doubts were dispelled for the moment at least, as all the Navy people present let loose a tremendous cheer in which the midshipmen spectators led, for now Captain Hepson was leading his own men on to the field, the hope of the Navy that day.

"Hepson! Hepson!" went up rousingly from the brigade.

"Darrin! Darrin!" howled others.

"Dalzell!"

"Darrin! Darrin!"

"Hepson must enjoy hearing more noise for Darrin than for himself,"

reflected Jetson moodily.

But Hepson, big in body, heart and mind, was intent only on victory. It did not even occur to the captain of the Navy eleven that Darrin was getting more of a reception than himself. Hepson was simply and heartily glad to find himself supported by two such promising gridiron men as Darrin and Dalzell.

"Remember, Darry, how much we're backing on you to-day," muttered Hepson, after another round of yells for Dave had been given.

"I can't do everything, and perhaps not much," smiled Dave. "But I'll do my level best to do all that you call upon me for at my own little spot in the line."

A din of Hanniston yells was now smiting the air. Uncle Sam's midshipmen waited with patience and courtesy, but when their turn came they volleyed forth four times as much as the visiting howlers could supply.

"I hope Darry is in great form to-day," murmured the midshipman seated next to Jetson.

"He looks to be in as good shape as ever doesn't he?" asked Jetson sullenly.

"Oh, I forgot," exclaimed the other. "You don't like Darry any too well."

"I've nothing against him that would make me want to see him in bad form," grumbled Jetson. "I'm a Navy man and I don't want to see any but Navy victories."

The toss had just been made, the visitors winning the kick-off. At a sign from a Navy officer in the field the leader silenced his band and a hush fell over the gridiron and the seats of the onlookers.

CHAPTER XI

THE BAND COULDN'T MAKE ITSELF HEARD

Within five minutes the Hanniston players had established the fact that they were not only bulky, but quick and brainy. In fact, though the Navy promptly blocked the ball and got it, the middies were unable to make headway against the college men. Then Hanniston took the ball, fighting slowly but steadily toward the Navy goal line.

"I don't see Darrin making any wonderful plays," thought Jetson to himself. He was gloomy over seeing the Navy outplayed, but secretly glad that the spectators had as yet found no occasion to shout themselves hoa.r.s.e over Midshipman Dave's work.

Outside of the brigade the other spectators in the Navy seats felt themselves tinder a cloud of increasing gloom.

"From all the talk I had expected more of Mr. Darrin," remarked an officer's wife-to her husband.

"Darrin has a fearful Hanniston line against him," replied the officer.

"Captain Hepson realizes that, too, and he isn't pushing Darrin as hard as you might wish to see."

"We're going to be beaten, aren't we?" asked another Navy onlooker.

It was as yet too early to predict safely, though all the appearances were that the visitors would do whatever scoring was to be done to-day.

Yet, even when they felt themselves outcla.s.sed, the middies hung to their opponents with dogged perseverance. It took nearly all of the first half for the Hannistons to place the Navy goal in final, desperate danger.

Then, of a sudden, while the Hannistons worked within a dozen yards of the Navy goal line, the college boys made a new attack, the strongest they had yet shown.

There was a b.u.mping crash as the lines came together, at the Navy's right. Farley and Page were swept clear off their feet and the a.s.sailants swept onward. Another clever attack, backed by a ruse, and one of the college boys started on a dead run with the ball. In vain the Navy's backs tried to stop him. The Hanniston boys successfully interfered for their runner, and the ball was touched down behind the goal line.

Gone were the cheers that had been ascending from the brigade. All the Navy crowd gasped in dismay. The ball was carried back, kicked, and Hanniston had scored six points.

"Ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha--Hanniston! Wow!" went up derisively from the visiting howlers.

"Hepson! Hepson! Pull us out!" came the appeal.

"Darry! Darry! Rush it!"

As the two elevens were lining up for another start the time-keeper's whistle sounded the end of the first half of the game.

Gloomy, indeed, were those who had hoped to see the Navy win. There were no cheers, save from the visitor-howlers. The best that the leader of the band could do, was to swing his baton and start in the strains of "'Twas Never Thus in Olden Times."

"What do you make of the enemy, Hepson?" inquired Joyce, as the middies rested at the side lines.

"We haven't made anything of them yet, but we've got to make wrecks of 'em before the last half is over," grunted the captain of the Navy.