"Not this afternoon, anyway," smiled Hudson. "I want Dalzell."

Drayne fell back. He was not chosen at all for the scrub team.
Yet, as he had nearly a score of companions, out of the large
football squad, he had no special reason to feel hurt. Those
who had not been picked for either team lined up at the sides.
There was a chance that some of them might be called out as subs,
though practice in signal work was hardly likely to result in
any of the players being injured.

Drayne did not appear to take his mild snub very seriously.

In fact, after his one outbreak before the team captain, and his
subsequent remarks to the girls, Drayne had appeared to fall in
line, satisfied even to be a member of the school's big squad.

The ball was placed for a snap-back, and Coach Morton sounded
the whistle.

"Twelve-nine-seventeen---twenty-eight---four!" called Dave Darrin.

Then the scrimmage was on in earnest. As soon as the play had
properly developed Mr. Morton blew his whistle, for this was
practice only in the signal part.

Then Hudson took the ball and Dalzell called off:

"Nine---eight---thirteen---two!"