“Well, he’s all right—yet. If he doesn’t——” The coach stopped suddenly, seemed about to say something and then evidently thought better of it. “At any rate,” he finished, “if worst comes to worst, we can put Parsons in. He’s improving every day, and with a little more coaching so that he isn’t quite so awkward and can run better, he’ll make a star player. He’ll be on the first team next year.”
“He wants to get on this year.”
“Perhaps he will,” and with that the coach walked off rather abruptly.
[CHAPTER IX]
A GAME WITH BOXER HALL
The grandstand was filled with cheering students. In one section were the cohorts of Randall College, led in giving their cries by “Bean” Perkins, who had a voice like unto that of some fog horn. There was a mass of glowing colors as flags and streamers were waved in the wind.
In another part of the stand a smaller but no less enthusiastic throng sent up exultant cries of rivalry, calling out repeatedly: “Boxer! Boxer! Boxer!”
Scattered among the students in each of the two divisions of the stand were girls and more girls, all of them pretty, at least in the eyes of their admirers, and all of them sporting one college colors or the other.