He had also meanwhile passed another examination, and that without conditions. The candidates for the school eleven, by which term the first team was known, had assembled on the afternoon of the first day of school, and never before, according to Mr. Ames, had there been so many of them; and never, he had also added to himself, had they been nearly so unpromising. Out of a possible one hundred and forty-odd students, seventy-one, or practically one-half, had reported for practice on the green. Of the number five had played on the last year’s team, while many others had been on either the scrub or the class elevens. Hansel, because of an examination in mathematics, had not been able to reach the green until the first practice was almost half over. He had reported to Bert Middleton, and had been ungraciously sent to one of the awkward squads composed of the candidates from the entering class. But he hadn’t stayed there very long. Mr. Ames, making the round of the squads, had watched him for a moment and had thereupon sent him into the second group, which was under the instruction of a big, good-natured boy whom Hansel recognized as the Laurence Royle of whom Harry Folsom had spoken. The first day’s practice consisted principally of exercises designed to limber up stiff muscles, and proved most uninteresting and disappointing to many of the new candidates. After doing a quarter of a mile jog around the cinder track, the fellows were sent up to the gymnasium, where their names and weights were taken down by the manager. On the second afternoon the unpromising candidates were weeded out, and definite teams—first, second, third, and fourth—were formed; and Hansel found himself one of sixteen lucky fellows constituting the first.
The coach was Mr. Ames, instructor in French and German. He had played football and baseball during his college days at Harvard, and had, in fact, been an all-round athlete. He was a young man, very popular with the students and very successful in handling them, either on the gridiron or in the classroom. During his five years as coach Beechcroft had won three football games from Fairview School, her dearest enemy, and had lost two; had been defeated three times in baseball, had tied one game and won one; had been generally successful on the track, and in the two years that hockey had been played had been twice defeated. The physical training was looked after by Mr. Foote, the director of the gymnasium. Undoubtedly Beechcroft could have done better in athletics had she had a professional trainer and additional coaches, but there was little revenue from athletics and almost no support from graduates, and as a consequence what money was obtained for athletic expenditure came from the students themselves and was insufficient for anything more than the items of equipment, field maintenance, and traveling expenses. Under the circumstances, it was felt that Beechcroft did very well.
Mr. Ames believed that in Hansel the football team had a find of no small importance. The boy evidently knew football from the ground up, had weight, speed, and brains, and promised to develop into one of the best men on the team. He confided his belief to Bert and Harry one afternoon after practice was over, and even Bert was forced, seemingly against his will, to agree with him. Harry was enthusiastic, possibly because he had discerned Hansel’s abilities at their first meeting, and so felt a sort of proprietary interest in him.
“He’s got end cinched,” declared the manager. “Cutter and Grant will have to toss up to see which one of them goes to the scrub. I knew the first moment I set eyes on the fellow that he could play the game.”
“Well, if he’s a find he’s the only one that I know about,” said Bert. “There isn’t anyone else in sight who threatens to become famous.”
“That’s so,” agreed Mr. Ames. “The new men are a poor lot from the football standpoint. But there’s some good track material in sight.”
“Hang your old track material,” laughed Bert. “What I’m looking for is a few good heavy linemen.”
After the coach had taken himself off, Bert and Harry went up to the latter’s room in Weeks.
“How are you and Achates getting on together?” asked Harry when he had pushed Bert into an easy chair and thrown himself among the window cushions.