"Heller try any mean tricks?" asked Bert.
"I thought he did, but maybe I was mistaken. Oh, but I got one beaut kick on the shin," and Tom gently massaged the leg in question.
"Some lad tried to gouge out one of my eyes," added Bert.
"And if I have any skin left on my nose I'm lucky," asserted Jack, trying to look cross-eyed at his nasal member.
"It's just a little sunburned," said Tom, with a laugh. "I guess we'll have a team after a bit."
"Sure!" chorused his chums.
Practice went on for several days after this, and there were a number of changes of position made, though Sam was still at quarterback, and Tom held his same place.
"Now, fellows, we're going to have a little different form of exercise to-morrow," announced the coach, at the conclusion of a short game one afternoon. "I want you all to take part in a cross-country run. It will improve your wind, and work some of the fat off you fellows that can stand losing it. It will be good for your legs, too.
"We'll start from the gym after last lectures, hit the turnpike for Aldenhurst, cross the river at Weldon, circle up the hill through Marsden, and come back along the river road. You can go in bunches, or singly as you choose, but you must all make those towns, and there'll be checkers at each one to see that you don't skip. It's only fifteen miles, and you ought to do it in four hours without turning a hair. There'll be a five-hour time limit, and those who don't make all the checking points, and report back by eight o'clock will be scratched off the active football list. That's all."
A silence followed the announcement of the coach, and then came several murmurs of disapproval.