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 yards, which attempt resulted in an interception by the First and brought about the latter's second touchdown. Tom declared that he was glad to get the tips and that he would pass them on to "Cocky."

"Of course some of it won't be news to him, though. He's been trying to speed up the forwards right along, for instance; and that stuff about Clif is old, too. He does miss too many tackles, and that's no joke."

"I don't see why, either," Clif complained. "I try hard enough."

"I thought to-day that you tried too hard," said Loring. "That time you tried for Whitemill, Clif, you weren't near enough when you grabbed, and you got only one hand on him. It's possible that you're too anxious, isn't it? Hadn't you better try getting closer to your man before tackling?"

"Maybe that's it," said Clif, glumly. "There's something wrong. 'Cocky' has told me all along that I'm a punk tackler, and I guess I am."

"Oh, you're not as bad as that," said Tom. "There are others!"

"Of course I didn't think that I was telling you news," said Loring. "You asked me to tell you what I saw, Tom, and that's what I've done. I still say that it's cheeky of me to set up as a football authority and critic, you know!"

"I don't see it," Tom answered. "You certainly got the dope on us to-day, didn't you? You keep up the good work, old son. Unless we do a heap better than we did to-day we're going to need all the help we can get!"