Meantime the scrub was hard at work kicking, tackling, falling on the ball, passing, and getting used to signals. And Hal Darrell, although ready to take part, had not been called on. With one or two others he secured a ball and began passing it and kicking it about. One of the fellows took a position and snapped the ball back to Hal, who kicked it. The second time he did this he made a wonderfully long drive, and, within a few minutes, he had attracted some attention by his kicking, Then he shifted back and caught the ball, permitting another fellow to kick.
Now, Darrell had played football before coming to Fardale, although he had not made an attempt to get onto the eleven at the academy, being satisfied to be regarded as the star pitcher of the nine.
Hal soon showed that he was decidedly clever in capturing punts, and not a few chaps who were watching from the side of the field began to express wonder because he had not appeared on the field before.
And then, having taken the ball, Darrell ran with it dodging two or three fellows who made a bluff at tackling him. When he stopped he found himself within three feet of Frank Merriwell, who was looking at him.
"What’s your name?" asked Frank.
"Darrell, sir."
"I don’t remember seeing you before. Have you been out in practise?"
"This is the first time."
"I thought so."
That was all. Frank turned and walked away without another word. Looking after him, Hal saw Dick Merriwell step out quickly and meet his brother, with whom he began to talk earnestly.