"Good-morning, Mr. Drake," said a pleasant voice behind Robert. The latter turned around and then enthusiastically cried:
"Hello, Sexton, I'm glad to see you back. I hope you'll make it a go this time. Why have you those togs on?"
"I'm going to try for the squad," replied Sexton.
"Look here, Sexton, take my advice and don't go into football; math comes hard to you, and football takes up a lot of time on one hand and tires you out; makes it hard to study, on the other. Now you don't want to bilge again, and you don't want to take up anything that will interfere with your studies." Sexton had failed in his studies and had been dropped from the Academy in consequence the previous year.
"I want to play," replied Sexton, "and if I get low in my studies and it is known I play football the instructors will help me out; will give me easy subjects and high marks."
"Not unless you're a star player. You'd better give it up, Sexton. Hello, Blunt," Robert continued to another young man who just came up, "so you're out for football, too, are you?"
"You bet, and I'm going to make quarter on the first team, too. Last year's quarter graduated in June, and I'm the boy to take his place."
"Do you see that plebe over there, kicking the ball?" interrupted Stonewell, who, while watching different players, had half listened to the talk going on about him.
"That fellow with a thick bunch of hair, that one who has just kicked?"