Books were tossed aside, and from the trunks were pulled the jackets and trousers that had seen yeoman service.
"Mine are all right," announced Tom.
"Whew! There's an all-fired big rip here," declared Jack, as he viewed his trousers. "Anyone got a needle and thread with 'em?"
"Use some wire," suggested Bert. "That's what I do. Thread won't hold."
And then began a busy session for the chums.
It was the day of the first football practice. Out on the field assembled half a hundred lads from whom the leading school team would be picked. There were at least a dozen lads for every position, and only a few positions to fill, for many of the former players had come back.
"What are you going to try for, Tom?" asked Bert, as he delivered a beautiful drop kick down the field.
"One of the backs—left half for choice."
"Here comes Morse," remarked Jack, as the captain came into sight, surrounded by a score of lads seeking to curry favor.
"And there's Jackson, the coach," added Tom. "He's got a suit on.
Guess he'll go in for practice."