“But they don’t give you your Y for that,” said Gerald.
“Oh, so that’s it?” said Alf. “Well, you mustn’t think about such things, kid. You must always play for the School with no thought of reward.” He looked gravely at Tom. Tom grinned.
“Didn’t you think about getting your Y when you began to play football?” asked Gerald suspiciously. Alf cleared his throat, and Tom and Dan laughed.
“We-ll, now you’re getting personal,” he replied evasively. “I won’t say the thought didn’t occur to me—for a moment—now and then, Gerald, but—er—theoretically——”
“Oh, forget it,” said Tom. “Don’t talk nonsense. Half the fun is in winning your letter. I was as proud as a peacock when I got mine. They gave them out one afternoon and the next morning I was wearing it on my cap.”
“How did you get it?” asked Gerald eagerly.
“Throwing the hammer.”
“Do you think I could do that, Tom?”
“I’m afraid not,” laughed the other. “But I tell you what you might do, Gerald. You might come out with the track team in the spring and try running the mile. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could do that distance pretty well. You’ve got a mighty nice stride, son.”