“All right, chum, but don’t hope too much. You’re pretty light for the Varsity. It won’t do you any harm to try, though.”
“You’re not very encouraging,” Gerald laughed. “You might at least pretend to think I have a chance, Dan. And, after all, I guess there have been lighter fellows on the team before this.”
“I wasn’t thinking so much of your actual weight,” replied Dan. “A lot depends on the way a chap uses his weight. I may be all wrong, chum, and I hope I am, but it just doesn’t seem to me that you’re a ‘football man.’ But I want you to come out and try, just the same. Perhaps you can make the Second Team.”
“No, thank you! No Second for me; First Team or none.”
“You’re a modest little blossom,” laughed Dan. “But, I say, what about your cross-country work?”
“Oh, that’s all right. I spoke to Goodyear about it, and he said Payson would let me off football practice now and then. Besides, they’ve got a dandy lot of cross-country fellows this year and don’t need me very much.”
“I think you’re making a mistake, chum. You’re a first-rate distance runner, with a chance of finishing first or second in the cross-country run, and you want to sacrifice your real talent for a bare chance of making good in football. That’s silly, Gerald.”
“No, it isn’t, Dan. I’ve always wanted to play football; you know that; and now Muscles has given me permission to play for the first time. And I’m going to have a whack at it. Besides, I don’t see why trying for the Football Team won’t keep me in condition for cross-country work.”
“You don’t? Well, I do. And look here; suppose you should make the team, and suppose you were wanted to play against Broadwood. What would you do in that case? Run a four mile cross-country race in the morning and then play in a gruelling football game in the afternoon?”
Gerald’s face fell, but he answered stoutly: “I don’t see why not.”