"I guess so. Pretty fair. We didn't seem able

to stop them outside of tackles, though. That right half of theirs made a seventy-yard run one time. That was when they got their first touchdown. They fooled us on a fake-kick play and sent a back around Felker's end from our fifteen yards."

"I knew we'd get licked," muttered Lanny. "We must have played a solid-ivory sort of game, Chester!"

"You ought to hear the fellows roasting the team afterwards," chuckled Fudge, struggling with another spoonful of ice-cream. "Dick, too. They say he didn't more than half try to win. He put in six subs in the last half. What sort of a way is that?"

"I take it you didn't get in," said Chester, sarcastically.

"I'm on the Scrub," replied Fudge, untroubledly. "Bet you I could have done as well as Thad Brimmer did, though. How was the Springdale game, Lanny?"

"Pretty good," Lanny replied absently. "Six to nothing, Springdale. Well, I must be getting on. See you later, Chester."

Chester nodded and Lanny went out. "He feels pretty bad about it, I guess," said Chester.