“Say, what do you want?” asked Tom. “I think it’s fine. Of course I wish it was the regular, but maybe next year——”
“That’s the way to talk,” declared Reddy, who was on the leading team himself. “But I tell you that you’re in luck to make the Freshman team. There are no end of candidates, but you two seemed to hit the mark.”
Tom rejoiced exceedingly, and when he received his formal notice, as did Jack, our hero at once wrote to his parents, who were soon to reach Australia. Tom had had several letters from them since leaving home, but had yet to hear of their safe arrival. He sent the letter to Sydney, in care of his father’s lawyer.
There were busy days for our hero and his chums now. With lectures to attend, studying to do, and football practice, their time was pretty well occupied. Bert Wilson had made the Freshman eleven, and the three chums played well together.
Tom had not seen much of Bruce Bennington since the night the Senior aided the first year lads, for Bruce was busy too, as he was on the ’varsity.
Tom found that football, as played at Elmwood, was very different from the Academy games, but he was made of tough material, and he soon worked well into his place as right half-back, while Jack was left tackle. Several scrub games had been played, and the Freshman coaches seemed satisfied with the work of their charges.
“Hurray!” yelled Tom, running up to Jack one afternoon, as his chum was strolling across the campus. “Yell, old man!”
“What for?”
“We play our first regular game Saturday against Holwell college. They’ve got a strong team, but we’re going to win! I’m going to make a touchdown!”
“Good! Oh, say, it’s great here!” and in the excess of their good spirits Tom and Jack fell to pummelling each other in hearty fashion.