“Eh? Hello, Hazard.” Sargent was so pleased that he shook hands and Jim’s conscience smote him for an instant. Sargent was such a dandy chap that it seemed a shame to impose on him. “Hi, Johnny! Here a minute, please.” And as the trainer came swinging up, Sargent continued: “This is Hazard. You know I spoke to you about him. Take him in hand, will you, Johnny?”
Johnny said he was glad to meet Mr. Hazard and shook hands with a grip that made Jim wince.
“Play in the line, don’t you?” he asked. “That’s good; we need linemen. This is your first practice?”
Jim agreed that it was.
“Then I guess we’ll go easy with you. Suppose you go over there and report to Gary; tell him I sent you. Pass the ball awhile and warm up.” He took out a little tattered memorandum book and entered Jim, name, age and address. “Come to me after practice, Hazard, and I’ll put you on the scales. About a hundred and thirty, aren’t you?”
“I haven’t weighed very recently,” replied Jim, “but I guess that’s pretty near it.”
“All right. By the way, ever play tackle?”
“Yes, for awhile; and guard. And I was at full-back once or twice.”
“You don’t look very quick on your feet,” commented Johnny, “but we’ll get you gingered up after awhile. Don’t be afraid of sweating a little; it will do you good.”
Jim obediently made his way down the field to the squad indicated, and Johnny and Sargent looked after him critically.