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A Boy Knight by Martin J.

He yelled A Rah Rah for Mulvy


The squad on the field looked a different aggregation. And it was different. The wonderful thing "spirit" had permeated them. It echoed in the rousing cheers which the Regal supporters gave them.

"Great Guns!" gasped Dick, just as Gaffney in front of the stand shouted through the megaphone, "A Rah, Rah for Regal." From thousands of throats came the inspiring, "Regal, Regal! Rah, Rah, Re--gal!"

"Now, fellows, a big Rah Rah for Mulvy!" Most of the spectators had supposed that Mulvy was crippled and that he was pressed into service as a last resort. Realizing that an injured gladiator who fights on is a hero, the response that came from the crowd was tremendous.

"Mulvy, Mulvy, Rah, Rah, Mul. . .vy!"

"Give him another," yelled Gaffney.

Again, louder and more intensely, rang out over the field, "Mulvy, Mulvy! Rah, Rah, Mul . . . vy!"

The Stanley crowd shot back their yell, "Stanley, Rah! Stanley, Rah! Rah! Rah! Stan....ley!"

The Stanley squad noticed Mulvy, but most of them thought he was crippled and would not last long. None guessed the real reason of his absence in the first half.

Again the whistle blew, the teams took their formation, and with a mighty kick by Stanley the ball was in play. For a few moments there was no apparent difference in Regal's play. But soon it was noticed that they were going like a well-oiled machine. Stanley, too, seemed to be playing a better game. It was good football all around. They were well matched. It was to and fro again, but now there was no looseness on Regal's side. Any gain that was made against them was due to good work by Stanley, not to poor play by Regal.

Frank was playing well to the rear. All of a sudden Stanley got the ball, passed it to the fleetest runner, made an opening for him and gave him a clear field to Regal's line. Only Mulvy stood between him and a touchdown. The runner was tall and fast, fifteen pounds heavier than Frank, a big margin where a boy is concerned. He came tearing down the field with the ball. Frank rushed right across his path, stood his ground with a tigerish gleam and posture, and when his man approached, tackled him low, sending him sprawling to earth, the ball rolling away to one side. The coach leaped into the air, gave the bench a bang with his hand that drew blood, and exclaimed between his teeth, "Grit."

The Regal crowd fairly went wild. Gaffney swung his arms like a wind mill, and worked his megaphone like a factory whistle, but it was all lost. Unmarshalled cheers shook the stand. Yells, shouts, slaps on the back, frenzy. It was Regal's first chance to let loose. The nervous tension was at the breaking point. It needed just this play to act as a safety valve. When Gaffney at last could get a hearing, he yelled--"A Rah Rah for Mulvy." With an enthusiasm that inspired the team on the field, they yelled:

"Mulvy, Mulvy! Rah, Rah, Mul . . . vy!"

"Another," shouted Gaffney.


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