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 minutes out there in that chilling gale. But Clif and Tom found the spectacle a most thrilling one, groaning when "Swede" Hanbury, the second-string full back, romped through the Scrub for twelve long yards and exulting shrilly when "Wink" plunged through and fell on a fumbled ball at a moment when disaster threatened the Scrub, seven yards from its goal. Yes, though neither side scored, though misplays were frequent and opportunities wasted, Clif and Tom found the contest heart-filling enough.

That evening the Scrub was carelessly enough christened with a name that stuck the season through. Some unknown witness of the afternoon's struggle uttered the phrase, and it met with favor from a listener, and was repeated, probably as his own, and by the next afternoon it had captured popularity, and written itself into school language. After that it was never, save officially or in the polite pages of The Lantern, "Mr. Babcock's Team." Nor was it the "Second." It was the "Fighting Scrub."

That was a name to live up to, and the Scrub, from Adams to Tyson, taking it alphabetically, resolved to merit it. Mr. Babcock smiled in his sleeve. He believed in fight. Fighting, though, won't always win, especially if the odds against the fighter are long. And if the Scrub thought to repeat its victory of Thursday right away it was doomed to disappointment. Because on Friday, during the brief ten minutes of real scrimmage that took place, the First, having knocked together a hasty and temporary defense against forward