“Of course,” they murmured, and each secretly determined to leave nothing untried that would win for him the coveted honor of playing on the ’varsity eleven.
“Then everybody be on hand for practice on the gridiron at three o’clock sharp to-morrow,” announced Kindlings. “We’ll run through some hard plays, do some passing and tackling, and play a fifteen minute half against the scrub. Sharp work, everybody!”
“’Rah for Kindlings!” yelled Bean, and the shout that followed, if it did not exactly raise the roof of the gymnasium, at least testified to the regard in which the captain was held.
There was more talk from Mr. Lighton, who had worked out a new system of signals for the present season, and he gave the lads a short drill in it before the meeting adjourned.
Meanwhile Phil, Tom and Sid had been keeping their ears on the alert, and their eyes open for any hint, in talk or action, that would give them a clew to who had taken their chair and clock. But they were not successful. If any of the football squad was guilty, the fact was successfully concealed.
[CHAPTER VI]
IN PRACTICE
There was a crisping tang in the air. The wind had in it just the hint of winter, but the sun shone bravely down and glinted on the green grass of the football field—a field marked off in white lines, so meaningless to one not familiar with the game, yet so full of meaning to a player.