“Fairview has a good team,” went on Coach Lighton. “I give them credit for that. But we have a better one, and now that we know their style of play and their weakness we can beat them next game. We’ll have another chance at them.”
“And we’ll wipe up the gridiron with ’em!” cried Holly Cross. “Forget it, fellows! Let’s sing ‘Marching to the Goal Posts,’” which they did with such a vim that the spirits of all were raised many degrees.
“Well, Phil,” remarked Tom, as he was getting off his football togs, “we were sort of up against it, eh?”
“Oh, it might have been worse. But the way the fellows rushed the ball up the field the last five minutes was a caution. It was like a machine.”
“Yes; we ought to have done that first.”
“That’s right. By the way, I’m going to see my sister. Want to come along?”
“Sure!” exclaimed Tom with such eagerness that Phil remarked dryly:
“I don’t know that she’ll be with Madge Tyler.”
“Oh—er—that is—that’s all right,” said Tom hastily, and he swallowed quickly. “I’ll go along.”
“All right,” said Phil.