“Yes; didn’t make any bones about it. Well, I s’pose we could catch up to Gerhart now. But what’s the use?”
“That’s right. Hello! There’s Langridge joining him now, Phil,” and as Tom spoke they saw the sophomore come from a side path and walk along with the freshman. The two began talking earnestly, and from the manner of Gerhart it seemed that something had gone wrong, and that he was endeavoring to explain.
Tom and Phil forgot the little scene of the afternoon when they got down to studying that night, and as lessons were getting to be pretty “stiff,” to quote Sid, it was necessary to put in considerable time over books. The three “boned” away until midnight, and after an inspection of their beds, to make sure that no contraband articles were between the sheets, they turned out the light and were soon slumbering.
The next day Phil was turned back in Greek, and had to write out a difficult exercise.
“Tell Mr. Lighton I’ll be ready for practice in half an hour,” he said to Tom, as the latter hurried off to get into his football togs. “I’ll come as soon as Pitchfork lets me off.”
“All right,” answered his chum.
When Tom got to the gridiron he found most of the ’varsity eleven there. Coach Lighton was in earnest conversation with Captain Holly Cross.
“Where’s Phil?” asked the coach as Tom came up. The left-end explained.
“Come into the gym, fellows,” went on the coach. “I have something important to tell you. Phil will be along soon.”
Vainly wondering what was in the wind, and whether, by any chance, it concerned Phil, Tom followed the sturdy lads across the field. Phil joined the throng before the gymnasium was reached.