--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Merrill, Harrison R. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 33 number: 1 published: 1929-11 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Harrison R. Merrill, “Little Runt,” *Improvement Era* 33, no. 1 (November 1929): 37–43." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3301unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera3301unse start_page: 37 end_page: 43 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1929-11) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3301unse publication_year: 1929 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1929, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Little Runt Little Runt HARRISON R.MERRILL LITTLE JOE GARDNER sat on the bench with his chin in his hands watching the football game. Bitterness was in his heart. For four long years he had been kicked and battered about on the field of scrimmage, first as a freshman, then as a varsity man, but not yet had he made his letter. This was his last year at Kinsmore, and it was slipping away. He realized that he was small. One hundred and twenty-five pounds of bone and brawn tied up in a little skin, though it was a tough skin, was not enough to send against a husky foe, he knew. But he also knew that bone and brawn are not everything, even though the coach and some of the alumni fans did think so. For eight years now he had been a careful student of the game which had become a passion with him. All through his high school he had played quarterback and had made a splendid reputation. But for some reason he ceased to grow. Furthermore, his own little high school was two states removed from Kinsmore, and few here had »ver heard of the glory he had won. there, was a good quarterback; but he also knew that Burke had great gaps in his football knowledge and in his thinking as well. Burke performed well except in one thing: he seemed unable to remember instructions, or he pur- posely changed the style of game because he had more faith in his own strategy than in that of the coach. Furthermore, Burke was often influenced by some "smart" player to pull something that was not on the program at all. Little Joe was sure that only a very superior team had saved Kins- more from at least two defeats this very season. But he was not the man to stick his nose into other people's business. Joe played foot- ball when he got a chance, and ate H: .E knew that Coach Lyn Smith liked him, but knew also the coach's passion for big fellows. "Talking of football players," he had often heard Smithy say, "if you have a good big man and a good little man, why take the good big man every time. That's my gospel." Little Joe could not help but agree with the coach, though he knew that there were many grades of "good". The little quarterback knew that Burke James, the- sophomore who was running the team out R EADERS of Utah newspapers and Church magazines all know Harrison R. Merrill, by reputation if r\ot personally. His poems and stories have been appearing for years, and he is the author of a charming novel, Bart of Kane County. But it is perhaps as a writer of sporting events that he is best known, and the ERA is fortu- nate in having this football story from his pen. For a number of years he has been assistant professor of English at the Brigham Young University and is now in New York is a student at Columbia University. his heart out on the bench when he did not. He knew he would get into this game all right. He always got in. But it would be after the real bat- tle was over, a moment only, just before the gun cracked. Ti HE players almost without exception liked the little fellow. When he was in a game he commanded like a Napoleon. No player from the smallest to the largest on the team ever attempted to tell him what play to pull. Yet the coach would not use him. Smithy was afraid of having the little fellow trampled to death. "Well, Joseph, would you like to get in and warm up a bit?" It was Coach Smith. He sat down beside the quarterback and laid his huge hand on Joe's knee. "Sure!" the boy exclaimed. "Every chance!" "Then get your helmet and send Burke out. Play safe football. Time's about up." As lS Joe sped across the field that parting word rang in his ears. — "Play safe football; time's about up." Not a chance to show anything. Just a puppet. Burke trotted off the field and before the first play was fully ex- ecuted, the gun barked, closing the contest. Joe dressed in silence. Discon- solate, he left the gymnasium. All the minutes stacked together any two years he had been on the var- sity squad would not make enough to give him a letter. How could he hope for one this year with the season already half over. "Well," he told himself with a grimace, "somebody has to be scrimmage fodder. Might as well be me." Hi .E sat down on a bench overlooking the football field. His thoughts were as glum as the clouds that hung above the lake he could see glimmering be- yond the town. He noticed the coach leaving the gymnasium and walking toward him. Joe idly wondered where Smithy was go- ing. He was surprised when the big fellow turned toward the place where he sat. "Like the game?" the coach asked as he seated himself by the quarterback. 38 The Improvement Era For November, 1929 "Yeah," Joe answered, "it was great." "Gardner," the coach turned to the boy — "what is your opinion of Burke James as a quarterback?" The boy's heart swelled with pride. Smithy was asking him about a football player. He knew the boys respected his fund of foot- ball knowledge, but he did not know the coach had any such feeling. "Well," he said, hesitatinq, "Burke is a mighty brilliant quar- terback." "Yeah," the coach answered, "but how, in your opinion, does he handle the team and run the game r Burke james was playing the position that Joe would have given ten years of his life to play for just ninety min- utes. He knew James, though fast and shifty, was not entirely safe, not just what a quarterback should be in the head. His strat- egy was poor and he could not or would not remember his sequences at the right time. But Joe also knew that Coach Smith knew all these things. He had a great respect for Coach Smith's football knowl- edge. Besides, young Gardner was not the man to tear down another to his back. 'You saw him play this after- noon," he said as if that ought to settle it. "Yes, I saw him," Smithy re- plied with just a little too much force to indicate satisfaction. "I am deucedly worried," he contin- ued. "Everybody thinks we have a great team. We have, but it lacks much of being a smoothly functioning ma- chine yet. Our stiff com- petition is yet to come. Everybody expects us to win because we've had such an easy time with these early games, but I tell you, Joe, we got to pick up. When that team strikes bang up outfits, it's going to wobble. And the weak- ness is in the quarterback, Joseph." 1 HE coach was decidedly worried, Joe knew, or he never would be talking like this. Coach Smithy was not the man to broadcast his troubles. He had been an unusually suc- cessful coach, but during the past two years his teams had been in a slump. This year material was better and there was a de- cided feeling of optimism both on the campus and in the town. Everybody was predicting another Kinsmore championship. "Well, sir," Joe answered, "we've a good team. Lots of weight, lots of speed, lots of cour- age! It looks like a winner to me." "It is," the coach admitted, "if we can keep it together. Our quar- ters are good men but they lack experience. Burke is the best of the lot, but he's short somewhere, I don't know where, and I'm just afraid it's something a coach can't give him — in time, at any rate." 'You're worried now, sir," Joe replied. "I believe Burke will snap out of it by the time we meet Ran- dall Tech. That'll be our big test. "Joseph, why didn't the good Lord give you thirty pounds more — or even twenty?" the coach asked whimsically. "See here, Joe, why don't you go down to the training table and eat for a solid hour every day?" He grinned as he rose to go. "Of course I was talking to you confidentially," Smithy continued. "We've come to look upon you more as a mem- ber of the coaching staff than as a player. Four years now, isn't it?" 'Yep," Joe gulped, a lump in his throat. He was still a boy, but little past twenty. "No letter yet! Bench warmer for four years!" The coach looked at the quarterback, admiration in his eyes. "It takes grit to be that — more than it does to play the game against the hardest of compe- tition." As he walked off, in his eyes was a speculative light. "It takes grit to be battered around four years for nothing," He stopped — "I wonder? * * * ' Then shaking his head he moved away. 1 HE day of the big game arrived at last. Kinsmore had continued with an unbroken string of victories, but so also had Randall. The two schools had de- feated every opponent and were now ready to match strength against each other for the confer- ence championship. Coach Smith approached the day with misgivings. He had not found or made a quarterback in whom he could place implicit faith. Burke James was still good, but he lacked something of being ideal. He could not run his plays with the precision the coach would have liked, and frequently made grave errors in judgment. He was too much of a gambler also to suit the coach. It was all right to throw a pass from his own thirty-yard line against a weak team, or to try a long unprotected 'one, but such tactics would not do at all against Randall Tech, Smith knew. He spent much time night and day with his problem during the week prior to the game. He called special skull practices in which he attempted to provide for every con- tingency. Two substitute quarters were carefully trained in case an accident should take James from the game. But still he was decid- edly uneasy. Burke lacked both generalship and commanding power, no doubt of that. o< OCCASIONALLY the coach thought of little Joe Gard- The Improvement Era For November, 1929 39 ner. But always he dismissed him be murder. Those big fellows he'd shake his head, "awfully sorry from his mind. would step on him and mash him for the little runt; does know the "Hundred and twenty-fi v e in the mud as they would an ant — game from A to izzard — wonder- pounds!" he would grunt. . "It'd and on the very first play. No," ful— above the ears!" 40 The Improvement Era For November, 1929 £j VERYBODY was keyed to a high pitch of excitement when the Kinsmore-Randall game got under way. Randall had brought a train-load of people to the contest, believing that in root- ers there is strength. They had won all their games from harder teams than those which had played Kinsmore, or else had won by a larger score from the same teams that had played Kinsmore. There was every reason to believe they had a slightly better chance for victory than their rivals. The Kinsmore fans were equally expectant. They had supreme confidence in Old Smithy and the team he had trained for the big occasion. Few knew the coach's problems. Fans rarely do. In their minds, Kinsmore's quarter- back was the star of the team. Burke's brilliancy and daring had won him many friends and sup- porters. Little Joe Gardner sat on the bench, his usual position when the games got under way, and studied the situation. His heart beat for old Kinsmore. This was his last year and he wanted the school to close the season in glory. His own personal feelings were swallowed up in his ambition for the Alma Mater. He heard Coach Smith's in- structions to the team. "Go in there and win," was the parting admonition. "And Burke," said he, calling his quarterback to him, "play the game heads high, old man. Tough battles like these are won upstairs. That's all. You're the general. Show us what you can do!" Coach smith sat down beside the little quarterback. "Study the game, Joseph," he said solemnly. He usually, for some reason used Joe's full name. "Help me to see our faults this first half. You watch Burke. See if he is playing heads up." In the same manner the coach designated positions for all his as- sistants and a number of the subs f to watch. Kinsmore received. The ball spiraled high in the air. Burke caught it on his own two-yard line and dashed up the field. A Randall end shot in from either side and downed him on the fifteen yard line. A growl escaped the coach. 'T h e simp," he snarled. "Should' ve let that go over. A fumble would've lost the game right there. Did lose five yards, and five yards against Randall at any stage of the game is consider- able." Little Joe shivered. No one but a novice, a braggart, or a fool would take a chance like that with the ends so close. But it was just such "game" plays that had made Burke popular with the fans. B » URKE seemed to have gained his equilibrium, however. During the first quarter he played careful ball. He called only straight plays and punted on the third down, usually, if there was any danger whatever. Randall played the same wait- ing game. The teams were like two boxers feeling each other out. The second quarter was more hectic. Randall unwound some trick plays and finished the se- quence with a long and deceptive pass which took the ball over the line for the first touchdown. The visiting quarterback kicked goal. Score: Randall 7; Kinsmore 0. Kinsmore fans groaned. A 7 to 0 lead was usually enough to spell victory for a Randall team. The Randall players were jubilant and returned to the attack with re- newed vigor. Kinsmore, however, rallied and played heads-up ball, blocking the big brown ends and tearing through Randall's line frequently to tackle their backs before they could get going. NEAR the close of the quarter Kinsmore got the ball on their own forty-yard line. Imme- diately Burke James called a hud- dle. Little Joe shivering on the bench, not with cold but anxiety and excitement, wondered what the quarter was up to. He watched with eager eyes as the backs pre- pared for the play which had evi- dently been selected. He saw Silky Kinkaid, heavy and fast fullback, back up to punt formation. Little Joe relaxed. He thought Burke was starting on a sequence which, Coach Smith insisted, would carry the ball down the field from any where near the center. The ball was snapped back to Burke James, who faked a pass to Silky, just as the first play of the sequence suggested. But the se- quence play was not completed. Burke, seizing the ball, ran out to the side and snapped it entirely across both teams in a long pass to Sandy Alexander, lengthy left end. Little Joe noticed that the Ran- dall backs suspecting a trick play were on their toes. Each defensive player had his man spotted. (As the ball whipped over the line of scrimmage, Bill Banting, huge Randall fullback, shot out between the ball and Sandy; snared it from the air on the run and plunged to- ward the Kinsmore line. The Kins- more team strung out behind him like the tail of Haley's comet in a vain attempt to drag him down. The pass had been totally unpro- tected. Randall annexed the extra point. Score: Randall 14; Kinsmore 0. Coach Smith leaped to his feet. "Max!" he commanded. "Go in there and send that boob out. I want to talk to him before the half is over!" Max Baum, a German youth who had shown considerable promise, rushed into the game and Burke James with head hanging limped over to the bench where the coach waited. Ti EARS were in his eyes. For after all, football men are usually mere boys, the great majority of them under twenty. Coach Smith knew the feeling. He had played fullback for six years, high school and college, and knew what it was to be jerked from the game. "That's all right, kid," he said calmly, his first upheaval having passed, but his tone still cut. "You probably lost the game with that one. I'm not censuring you if you really thought that was the way to win. But it was a boner, we can certainly all see that now." "Yeah," Burke quavered. "I wouldn't've pulled that one, but Sandy told me he thought it would work. He said he'd noticed their ends and backs were playing in close. He thought they wouldn't be expecting a pass there." "They must a been surprised!" the coach answered cuttingly. Smith's ire rose. That was what he had feared: that others would take a hand in running the team and would mess things up. But he kept his voice level and not too gruff. - He knew football men, and i The Improvement Era For November, 1929 41 was not the swearing, loud- mouthed kind. "You should' ve closed Sandy's mouth, Burkey, with your fist if necessary," he said solemnly. "The general must run the army. He must learn all that he can about a battle, but when it gets under way, he's got to run the fighting." "I'm awfully sorry, sir," Burke said humbly. Even Little Joe felt sorry for the quarterback, although he thought the coach was "plenty soft" in dealing with him. Coach Smith between halves, was in a quandary. He knew that Burke James would be useless in the remainder of the game that day. Not because the boy himself could not come back, but because his team-mates had lost confidence in him. They would insist more and more on the huddle and would in- terfere continually. He knew that no game could be won that way. M. .AX BAUM had done fairly well, but the coach knew the team had little confidence in him and had difficulty in under- standing the signals. While the men were in the hands of the trainers between halves, Smith walked up and down the long training room. This game meant more to him than any of the team knew. At the close of the season he was giving up coach- ing forever. He had been post- poning the occasion until he could quit with a winning team. He had set his heart on that. At last he paused in his walk, his decision made. "Joe, come here," he motioned to the little quarterback who had been assisting with the work. Little Joe rose to his feet every nerve aquiver. Had his opportu- nity arrived? "Burke's shot his wad for to- day," the coach said. "Poor chap, it was unfortunate, but of course he has only himself to blame. He should have run the team his way. Now Max can't pull this game out of the fire, so there we are!" The coach walked beside the lit- tle quarterback to the end of the room. Then he paused and laid his big hands on Joe's shoulders and looked down into his eyes. "Joseph, it's asking a lot of a kid your size, but how would you like to go out there and handle that team?" each in his heart resolved to do his utmost to wipe out the glaring fourteen points. J< OE was speechless for a moment. "Better than anything in this world!" he said huskily. "You don't have to unless you want to," the coach continued. "I've kept you out of a lot of games, but believe me, Joe, it was on your account! Those big Ran- dall fellows will take delight in tramping you in the sod!" "That won't matter, sir!" Joe exclaimed. "Let 'em, if they can!" The youth's eyes flashed and his jaw set. "That's the spirit, old man!" the coach cried, his hopes rising. 'Then you go in there, Joe, and play the game as you want to play it. You know the sequences. For the last two years I've been watch- ing and admiring you for the man- ner in which you've dug into the game. You're the little Napoleon, the man of the hour! We sure need one today if we are to win. Four- teen points is an awful lead to overcome. "I'll do my best, sir," Joe an- swered tensely. G ,OACH SMITH turned to the team. "Men," he said, "this game is not lost yet." "I should say not," the fullback exclaimed. "We're not through with that outfit." "I'm goin' to send Little Joe in there at quarter. He's light, but he knows the game as few football men know it. He knows all the sequences, and is expert on defense. Now you fellows go in there and get behind him solidly. We'll pull this game out yet!" When the eleven determined men trotted on to the field each looked up at the score board and 1 HE game got under way with a bang. Randall received the ball on their own fifteen-yard line and plunged down the field to their own twenty-two-yard line before Kinsmore could down the husky back who caught it. "Now fellas," Little Joe shouted to the team, "let's show these web-foots that they're up against a Kinsmore wall!" Twice Randall bucked the line without appreciable gain. On their third down they punted, indicating that they were content to have the score as it was. The ball went out of bounds on Kinsmore's forty- five-yard line. "The breaks!" Little Joe shout- ed, "we're getting the breaks. Now fellas!" Little Joe's heart sang as he squatted behind big Din Chalmers, Kinsmore's great center. No line could stop his team, he was saying to himself as he ripped off the signals. llE was so small that he was practically hidden from the eyes of the opposing team. The ball was snapped back, and he slipped it to Bullet Roxy, Kins- more's speedy right halfback. Roxy tore around right end for two yards. An off tackle play and a center buck completed the ten yards for first down. Kinsmore fans went wild. It was the first first-down on straight football. All the others had been made on passes or flukes of one kind or another. The ball was now just past the center of the field in RandaU territory. Little Joe's mind worked like lightning clicking off the mid-field sequences which had been stored there during many hard scrimmages. He selected one. "Punt formation!" he sang out. Randall got set for a pass or fake. Big Silky Kinkaid, Kinsmore's fullback, prepared to receive the ball from the center. Long Sandy Alexander shifted to right end, be- side Johnnie Bristol, the regular right end, leaving the left tackle eligible to receive a pass. Silky gave the signal. The ball snapped back, but into the hands of Little Joe. He side-stepped to the rear and whipped it like a bul- • 42 The Improvement Era For November, 1929 let over the heads of both teams into the waiting arms of Sandy Alexander who had slipped in be- hind the Randall center. Ti sang out: HE gain was but two yards, but the pass was completed. That was what the sequence needed. Again Little Joe "Punt formation!" Again Silky dropped back to receive. "Watch a pass, watch a pass!" the Randall men cried. "Watch your man!" Again Sandy Alexander shifted to the right end of the line. Fans were breathless with excitement. At last they beheld a football team — a machine — functioning. Every part seemed to be connected with every other part. The ball was spiraled back. This time Silky did .receive. The left tackle, now eligible, sifted through the line. Sandy Alexander shot off wide shouting for the ball, but it was Bullet Roxy who cutting in again behind the Randall line that received. The pass was completed with a two and a half yard gain. Randall had been pulled out of position, yet two of their backs re- mained unaccounted for. With a yell they were off after Roxy. His start gave him a slight advantage, but his speed gave him more. L Ti HE fans were in an uproar, and along the Kinsmore benches excitement kept every man in quivering anticipation. The se- quence was working. "Punt formation!" again Little Joe sang out the command. In his voice was the intonation of victory. Again the same disposition of the men was made. Now the Randall team was clearly excited. "Don't let 'em pull that stuff!" the captain implored. "Get your man! Hang on to him! Don't let 'em make another pass!" Again Silky opened his hands for the ball. Again he received it. With his left hand extended and his right hand drawn back as if to pass, he froze like a statute hiding the ball in his hand behind his back. It was the well known Goddess of Liberty play, old but ever new. Bullet Roxy, the right half back, the fastest man in the conference, dashed around behind the big full- back scooping up the ball as he went and was off down the field. The entire Kinsmore team shot into the play blocking with per- fect timing and efficiency. ITTLE JOE GARD- NER, like a hound at the flank of a deer ran beside the halfback. Randall's halfback made a leap for the twinkling feet of Bullet Roxy. Joe made a mighty lunge and was caught in the eager arms of the baf- fled tackier. That left only one Randall man in dangerous prox- imity to the man with the ball. "He's away," Coach Smith yelled, excitedly, unable longer to restrain his emotions. "The little runt! A perfect execution of a play that looks like a fur coat in July if poorly timed!" he was say- ing over and over, but nobody was listening. The entire throng was on its feet cheering and yelling as those two men streaked down the field. The Randall safety, having a slight advantage in yardage gradu- ally drew close to the Kinsmore back as their trails converged. He measured his distance and lunged. Roxy side-stepped, spun complete- ly around and was off with a clear field between him and the goal. The Randall back lay where he fell, too disappointed to rise im- mediately to his feet. For the extra point Little Joe placed a drop kick squarely be- tween the uprights. 1 HAT touchdown made a new team of the Kinsmore eleven. Working with the pre- cision of a machine both on the defense and offense, they stormed through the quarter. Randall still fought gamely, but was unable to threaten the Kinsmore goal. Early in the fourth quarter Kins- more once more got the ball on downs. With never faltering gen- eralship, Little Joe selected his sequences and carried them through with such speed and animation that the Randall team was amazed. Despite their gamest efforts the Kinsmore machine once more rolled down the field and over the line for their second touchdown. By the middle of the final quar- ter the score stood: Randall 14; Kinsmore 14. even. Both teams fought desper- ately to break that deadly tie. Both quarterbacks used every play they knew in the hope that they might snatch victory from the other. Lit- tle Joe, however, never faltered in activity or faith. Kinsmore must win. He became the little giant. His tackling, his uncanny sense which enabled him to shift perfectly to meet the thrusts of the opposing team, were disheartening to the Randall men. "Let's get that little wart!" the Randall captain finally growled in desperation, when the quarter mussed up a pass that was thought to be perfect — certain against any team. It was a play that had scored for Randall several times and had been saved for the close of the game as the last gesture upon which vic- tory was to be staked. "The next time any of you tackles cut that little runt, bust him! Put him out! He's half of the team!" The Randall men watched their opportunity. The game was nearly over when it came. 1 HEY were not con- scious of the unsportsmanlike at- titude they were taking. They were merely eleven desperate young men, exasperated beyond ..measure by a little chap who was turning sure victory into defeat. By "bust- ing" the captain did not mean that permanent injury was to be in- flicted. He merely meant that some one should knock the wind out of the little chap and force him to withdraw from the game. Wi B. >ACK and forth the battle waged with honors about ITH less than four minutes to play, a beautifully ex- ecuted series of passes had placed the ball on Randall's two-yard line. It was fourth down. The Kins- more eleven knew that it was now or never. There would not be time to work the ball back to scoring territory should they lose it now. At that critical moment the captain called a huddle. Little Joe was vexed but said nothing. They must all pull to- gether now. "Now I think a pass here is the thing," the big tackle suggested, "they're — " "Shut up!" Joe snapped. "What is it, Cap?" "I think myself a pass will go!" "This is the quick opening, scoring play," Joe answered. The Improvement Era For November, 1929 43 "Now let's snap into it and put it through that left guard. He's wobbling. Silky you're to carry it on 76." "Aw — " the tackle began, but he got no farther. The others had already lined up. Every man knew that Joe was right. The backfield men set themselves as close to the line of scrimmage as the rules would permit. Silky was ready for the lunge that was to bring victory. Little Joe squatted low behind the center. A great silence filled the stadium. Everybody knew the crisis had arrived. down at the muddy, blood- smeared face. He carried the youth up to where the team sat in stupified silence. "Burke!" he commanded, "go in there and bust those birds!" D Li /ITTLE Joe opened his hands. The ball was thrust into them as the big center lunged forward to do his share toward making that important hole. Little Joe reached it to Silky, but Silky was not there. He had slipped and was sprawled on the ground full length. The play called for light- ning execution. There was just one thing for Joe to do. He did it. Tucking the ball under his arm he shot through the hole the center and guard had made for Silky. He plunged low, so low that he could see a forest of legs as he wormed his way through, scrambling toward that coveted white line. Ti HERE was a crash. A ton of beef fell upon his head, another upon his spine. He felt a twinge in his right leg and then — all was dark. The referee dived under the pile of squirming humanity as the umpire began pulling the men off. The ball was over. A mighty cheer went up from the Kinsmore stand. "The little runt, the darned lit- tle runt!" Smith almost weeping, was saying over to himself as he watched that pile of men with anxious eyes. The score was Randall 14; Kinsmore 20. But what was wrong? Why didn't the team line up to try for the extra point? Then Coach Smith saw two of his men carrying a limp form from the field. He ran down the side-lines to meet them. Tenderly he took the little quarter in his arms as a man might take his own son. . "I was afraid of this," he said huskily to himself, as he looked OC Withers worked over the unconscious boy until the last fan had left the stadium before Little Joe opened his eyes. Coach Smith, who had sat anxiously by, breathed a sigh of relief. He stooped tenderly over the lad. "Well, Coach, — I — guess — I — am too — little." The quarter spoke brokenly. "When Silky — slipped — I thought — I could — take it over! Just — too — little — I guess!" His eyes closed and his face to Coach Smith looked very pale but as sweet as a girl's or — an angel's. The thought gave the seasoned old coach a twinge. "Boy, you did it!" he said huskily. "And believe me, Joe, when I say you are the biggest man I know — big enough to do any- thing!" The blue eyes opened and a smile played over the quarter's face. "Did I, Coach?" He sighed. " "Then nothin' else matters much!" 1 HE assembly hall at Kinsmore was packed to overflow- ing on the day the football awards were made. Coach Smith was handing out the letters, the sweat- ers, the blankets, and the medals. All of the football men had passed over the stage and had received their honors from an appreciative student-body. The fact that they had won a conference champion- ship did not detract from the en- thusiasm of the occasion. From a seat near the back of the auditorium Little Joe Gardner watched the proceedings with beaming eyes and an aching heart. He had helped win the champion- ship, but he had not made his let- ter. He never would win a letter now for he had had his three years of varsity participation. When the last award had been given he picked up his crutch pre- paratory to leaving the room when something Smithy was saying stopped him. "And now," said Smith, "all those who, according to the rules, have earned awards have received them. But rules cannot cover all cases. For example, we have a man here at Kinsmore who has been on the squad three years and before that he played freshman football. He has been a faithful trainer and a staunch supporter of the main team. 'This man has never had a foot- ball trip, he has never had an honor of any kind except the thrill that comes to a good sport who knows he is assisting in building the team. "Now it's through no fault of his that he has failed to play hi's ninety minutes. It's not because he cannot play the game. He can. It's not because he doesn't know the game. He does, better than most of these men who have re- ceived their awards." The coach paused. "Now you all know the man 1 mean." Cheers shook the building. Mingled with them was the name of Little Joe. "I suggest that we give Little Joe Gardner not only a sweater, but a gold medal besides. What do you say?" Applause that lasted for two minutes was the reply. "Bring him to the stand!" "Speech!" "Let's see Joseph!" Such cries rang out all over the auditorium. Wi ILLING hands shouldered the little quarterback and carried him to the stand. Little Joe stood there with his crutch under his arm. The four years of battering rolled away and he was glad — happier than he could ever remember of being be- fore. The bench warmer was ap- preciated after all. "I can die happy if it should happen tomorrow," he said simply, and everybody knew he meant it. "You have honored me. The right to wear that big block K means more to me than sweat- ers or medals or money." "The game little runt!" Coach Smith muttered under his breath. Soldiers, what I have to offer you is fatigue, danger, struggle and death; the chill of the cold night in the free air, and heat under the burning sun; no lodgings, no munitions, no prisoners, but forced marches, dangerous watch- posts and the continual struggle with the bayonet against batteries - — those who love freedom and their country may follow me. Garibaldi to his Roman soldiers.