"I'm heartily sorry," cried Dick, and he spoke the truth.
"Well, it's our class's fault," growled Greg. "The Army can thank
our class."
"We might not have been able to save the game," argued Prescott.
"We could have rattled Dave and Dan a lot," retorted Greg. "My
own belief is we could have saved the day."
"You might have played, Greg. I wouldn't have resented it."
"No; but I'd have felt a fine contempt for myself," retorted Cadet
Holmes scornfully. "Besides, Dick, though I have done some fairly
good things in football, I don't believe I'd be worth a kick without
you. It was playing with you that made me shine, always."
Late that evening the cadet corps returned, in the gloomiest frame
of mind.
"I can just see the blaze of bonfires at Annapolis," groaned Douglass.
"Say, the middies just fairly tore our scalps off. I always had
an ambition to captain the Army eleven, but I never thought I'd be
dragged down so deep under the mire!"
The details of that sad game for the Army need not be gone into
here. All the particulars of that spiritedly fought disaster
will be found in the fourth volume of the Annapolis Series, entitled
"_Dave Darrin's Fourth Year At Annapolis_."
A lot of the cadets who felt sorry for "Doug" came to his room.
"I haven't altogether gotten it through my weak mind yet," confessed
the disheartened Army football captain.
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