“Is practice over yet?” he asked.
“No,” said Reeves. “It had just begun when Banker was hurt. Blake is hunting around for somebody to take his place.”
Tommy closed his book with a slam, pushed back his chair, and from one corner of the room pulled out his old football suit.
“What are you going to do?” cried Reeves, a great light in his eyes.
“I’m going to play left guard,” said Tommy, as calmly as he could, and trying to steady his hands, which were trembling strangely. “Wait till I get these togs on, will you?”
But Reeves and Sexton had him by the hands and were shaking them wildly.
“I knew it!” cried Reeves. “I knew it! I knew he wouldn’t fail us! I knew the stuff he was made of! We’ll beat those freshmen yet.”
“Beat them!” echoed Sexton, dancing wildly around Tommy; “we’ll beat the life out of them! Hurry up, Remington. Let go his hand, can’t you, Reeves, so he can get into his togs. Let the other fellows get a look at him! It’ll do them good!”
CHAPTER XII
JOY AND SORROW
Meanwhile down on the football field an anxious consultation was in progress. Captain Blake and the manager of the team walked up and down together, talking earnestly. From their clouded faces it was easy to see how great their worry was. The players were grouped together uneasily, and the other students stood about, exchanging a curt word now and then, but for the most part silent. Gloom was on every face, desperation in every eye.