"There!" concluded the coach with a sigh. "I've given you enough football instructions to last all season. Now get busy and let's see how much of it you remember."
"Line up!" cried Captain Morse Denton, and, the preliminaries having been arranged, the ball was kicked off by the scrub, as the other players wanted to see how well they could rush it back.
It was Tom's luck to capture the yellow spheroid as it descended, and, well protected by interference, he raced down the field.
"Get him, fellows! Get him!" appealed the scrub captain, and several made an effort to break through to tackle Tom. Our hero noticed that Sam Heller was running interference for him on the left, and for a moment Tom felt that perhaps he had misjudged Sam in one particular.
"He certainly is making good interference for me," mused our hero. "Maybe he won't play me false after all. But I'm going to be on the watch."
There was now but the scrub fullback between Tom and the opposite goal line, though it was some distance away. Most of the leading team lads, streaming and straggling along, were shouting to encourage Tom.
"Go on! Go on!"
"Touchdown! Touchdown!"
"Good run, Tom old man!"
Tom was getting into his stride. Sam was just ahead of him seemingly getting ready to bowl over the scrub fullback, who was racing down the field, eager-eyed, to tackle Tom.