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beat. I would sure love to find out!
    He wondered if the team would have a scrimmage; the Greyhawks usually did before they were finished practicing. But the number
     of players he was watching hardly seemed enough to make up two teams. He counted seventeen members. Twenty-two were needed.
    His expectations were fulfilled some ten minutes later when the coach clapped his hands and shouted, “Okay, guys! Scrimmage!”
     He assigned a bunch of guys to play defense and another group to play offense. In a minute, two lines were formed, each standing
     facing one another. The defense had nine players, the offense eight.
    “Coach! You’re short of players—and we’re available!”
    Kear turned and stared at Scott. His eyes widened. “I don’t believe it!
You
said that?”
    Scott, his heart pounding, grinned. “Yes,” he said. “I said that.”
    “All ri-i-i-i-ght!” Kear exclaimed.
    Scott saw eighteen faces, including the coach’s, turn and stare at them.
    “You guys play football?” the coach inquired.
    “We sure do!” Scott replied, rising to his feet.
    He saw no need to explain more at this time. Or anytime. Unless the coach started asking questions.
    Kear rose to his feet, too, and stood beside him.
    “Okay!” the coach said. “I’ve got some equipment for you guys in my station wagon. Follow me!”
    Scott and Kear followed him to a blue station wagon parked at the curb. The coach opened the back of it, drew out shoulder
     pads, helmets, and rubber-cleated shoes, and tossed them to Scott and Kear.
    “Here. Put them on,” he said. “What positions do you kids play?”
    “Tackle,” Scott said.
    “Backfield,” Kear said.
    “Good.” The coach smiled as if he had just discovered a winning combination. “I’ll put you on defense,” he said to Scott,
     “and you on offense,” to Kear. He offered his hand. “I’m Joe Zacks. Who are you guys?”
    The boys told him while they donned their equipment.
    “Play on any team?”
    “I do. The Greyhawks,” Kear answered, casting a side glance at Scott.
    “I used to,” Scott said. “But now I’m not on any team.”
    The coach looked at him, then at Kear,studying their faces. Scott hoped he wouldn’t ask many more questions. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? I wouldn’t
     want either of you to risk getting hurt,” he said.
    “Don’t worry about us,” Kear said. “We’re tough.”
    “So are the guys out there.” The coach pointed at the players watching them from across the field. “Come on. I’ll introduce
     you to my Cougars, and we’ll get going.”
    Scott breathed a sigh of relief as they headed toward the waiting players.
    “We’re not in a league,” Coach Zacks explained. “By the time we formed and got a backer, it was too late to join. But that
     doesn’t mean we’re a bunch of hicks. I’ve got some very good players.”
    They reached the team members, and Coach Zacks introduced Scott and Kear. By the looks of some of them, Scott didn’t doubt
     what the coach had said. They looked tough. Tougher than nails.
    Coach Zacks rattled off the players for the offensive team and then those for the defensive team. He placed Scott at right
     tackle on thedefensive team and Kear at the right halfback position on the offensive team. Grouping up at the scrimmage line, Scott immediately
     saw that his opponent was Lance Woodlawn, a kid about two inches taller than he. Lance’s face was expressionless as he looked
     at Scott.
    On the very first play Lance bolted forward and elbowed Scott in the ribs, knocking Scott flat on his rear.
    “That’s just a sample, Kramer,” he said, smiling as he watched Scott rise slowly to his feet.
    Scott gritted his teeth. Okay, pal, he thought. If that’s the way you want it, that’s the way you’ll get it.

S IX

    The play was an end-around run that netted the fullback, Barney Stone, seven yards.
    Scott prepared himself for Lance’s charge on the next play. He couldn’t let the taller kid