“You dry up!” growled Sid, as he rubbed his shins.
Then, peace having finally been restored, they all began studying, while waiting for the summons to supper. When the bell rang, Phil and Tom made a mad rush for the dining-room.
“Football practice gives you a fine appetite,” observed Phil.
“I didn’t know you fellows needed any inducement to make you eat,” spoke Sid.
“Neither we do,” said Tom. “But come on, Phil, if he gets there first there’ll be little left for us, in spite of his gentle words.”
“We’ll have harder work at practice to-morrow,” continued Phil as they sat down at the table. “It will be the first real line-up, and I’m anxious to see how I’ll do against Shipman.”
“He’s got Gerhart’s place for good, has he?” asked Tom.
“It looks so. Pass the butter, will you? Do you want it all?”
“Not in the least, bright-eyes. Here; have a prune.”
“Say, you fellows make me tired,” observed Sid.