“Well, I’m done for to-night,” announced Sid, after an hour’s silence. “I’m going to get up early and bone away. Hand me that alarm clock, Tom, and I’ll set it for five.”
“Don’t!” begged Phil.
“Why not?”
“Because if you do it will go off about one o’clock in the morning. Set it at eleven, and by the law of averages it ought to go off at five. Try it and see. I never saw such a clock as that. It’s a most perverse specimen.”
Phil’s prediction proved, on trial, to be correct, so Sid set the clock at eleven, and went to bed, where, a little later, Tom and Phil followed.
There was more football practice the next afternoon, and also the following day. Tom was doing better than he expected, but his speed was not yet equal to the work that would be required of him.
“We need quick ends,” said the coach in talking to the candidates during a lull in practice. “You ends must get down the field like lightning on kicks, and we’re going to do a good deal of kicking this year.”
Tom felt that he would have to spend some extra time running, both on the gymnasium track and across country. His wind needed a little attention, and he was not a lad to favor himself. He wanted to be the best end on the team. He spoke to the coach about it, and was advised to run every chance he got.
“If you do, I can practically promise you a place on the eleven,” said Mr. Lighton.