“Now to find Phil’s sister,” he said half aloud, as he headed for the college. He knew the way well, for he had been there several times before in the previous spring, when his team played baseball.
“Hello, Parsons,” a voice greeted him as he was walking up the campus. “Where you bound for?”
The speaker was Frank Sullivan, manager of the Fairview ball team.
“Oh, I just came over to see what sort of a football eleven you were going to stack up against us this fall,” answered Tom easily.
“Not very good, I’m afraid,” declared Frank. “We’re in pretty bad shape. Several of our best men have been hurt in practice.”
“We’ve got a few cripples ourselves,” said Tom. “Phil Clinton just got laid up with a bad shoulder.”
“Our half-back is a wreck,” added Frank.
It is curious, but true, nevertheless, that most football elevens seem to rejoice in the number of cripples they can boast of. The worse the men are “banged up,” the better those interested in the team seem to be. It may be that they wish to conceal from other teams their real condition, and so give the enemy a false idea of their strength. However that may be, the fact remains.
“So you came over to see how we were doing, eh?” went on Frank. “Well, not very good, I’m afraid. We expect to be the tailenders this season,” which was not at all what Frank expected, however, nor did his friends. But he considered it policy to say so.