"Too bad! In these days some folks think football and baseball quite as important—ahem!—as—er—some studies. It is a wrong idea, assuredly,—yet I—ahem!—I think it would be a very good thing if we could show the world that our students can play football as well as do other things."
"Football is a great thing at Yale, Harvard, and Princeton, Doctor."
"Yes, indeed! I remember well how I used to witness those stirring games, and how I would yell with the rest. Why, Dale, one year we had a quarter-back that was a corker. They couldn't stop him! He got the pigskin and skinned down the field like a blue streak, and—but, ahem! that is past history now," finished the doctor, bringing himself back to his usual dignity. "But I must look into this football matter more closely," he added with a speculative sigh.
Poole, Frapley, and their crowd had arranged for a banquet that night, and many others of Oak Hall had gathered boxes and barrels for bonfires. The banquet was a tame affair, and not a single fire was lighted.
"We are having frost early this year," said Luke, dryly.
"Yes, it came on suddenly, this afternoon," added Shadow.
"I'll wager you will hear something drop in the football team before long," went on Luke. "The school won't stand for such work as we had to-day."
"Who is to blame?"
"Rand, Frapley, Bemis, and Nat Poole."
"Then they better resign."