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 was the Big Cheese, and you weren't supposed to ask questions or want to know how come. Now 'Cocky' let's every one in on things. Maybe it doesn't make us play any better, but it let's us think we're more than just so many machines without anything above the boilers! He's having us up in the rowing room before practice to talk things over. Of course, he does most of the talking—he and Dave, and sometimes Stoddard—but we like it."

"You'd better," said Tom. "'Cocky's' a grand coach, and a sight better than you guys deserve. Heck, he knows more real inside football than 'G. G.' ever thought of!"

"Quit your kidding," growled Billy. "He's all right, just as I told you, but he isn't the coach 'G. G.' is. And any one casting asparagus on 'G. G.' will have me on his neck."

"Oh, well, he's all right," acknowledged Tom. "Say, what do they hear about him, Billy?"

"Otis? Nothing except that he's getting along all right so far. I guess he's just got a thundering fine case of the 'flu,' and you can be beastly sick with it, and not worry your doc a mite. I know. I had it."

When Mr. Babcock went to the First Team he took Loring's play with him, and on Wednesday evening he dropped in at Loring's room after supper and told him so. "It's promising," he declared, "and I mean to make use of it, Deane, if I can get the fellows to make it go as it should. It's got to be pulled off at the right moment, under the right conditions." He went