He's one of the most modest fellows
in the corps. He had to be fairly dragged on to the eleven. He
believed it would be better off without him."
"So it would, sure!" rasped the turnback.
"Now, see here, Haynes, don't get so sore as to warp your own
judgment," expostulated Carter.
"Well, you just wait and see how much we do to the Navy! Have
you heard about the Navy's new, lightning right end?"
"Darrin, you mean?"
"Yes," nodded Haynes. "A friend of mine, who saw Darrin play
the other day, writes me that Darrin is an armor-clad terror on
the grid iron. If he is, he'll pulverize Prescott, unless Brayton
shifts Prescott to some other position."
"Pooh! I'm not afraid," laughed Carter, turning to walk away.
"Darrin, no doubt, is good, but he can't do anything to Prescott."
Neither of the speakers was aware that Dave Darrin, midshipman,
United States Navy, was one of the oldest and dearest friends that
Dick Prescott had.
Few at West Point knew that Darrin and Prescott had ever met.
"Am I going over to Philadelphia to see the game?" muttered Haynes
to himself, as he strode away from the game. "I want to see Prescott
go up against the real star Darrin, and get his neck broken!"
Anstey was one of the few at West Point who knew anything about
the friendship between Prescott, Holmes, Darrin and Dalzell.
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