"Why didn't you come out before?" asked Miller, confronting the blushing fraud.
"I didn't think I could do anything; and when you had Buck you didn't need any one else."
So Graham's place was filled, and by no poor substitute either, for Atkins was found to have concealed a magnificent head for football behind a mass of useless classical lore.
He not only kicked well, but charged the line like a whole battery, and sent the scrub flying while he ploughed his way through for a touch-down.
"Oh, Tommy, Tommy Atkins,
You're a very foxy one!"
sang, or rather shouted, the boys, after a particularly fine play, and Dr. Langford congratulated himself upon the success of his plan, for he was as glad to see Atkins entering into the athletic spirit as he was to hear the brilliant recitations which the team made.
The 15th of November dawned clear and cold, and a hundred and fifty boys awoke to the realization that one of the many crises of their lives had come.
The great game was played on the home grounds this year, so there was nothing to do but wait for the Williston contingency, which arrived at one o'clock, fifty strong, with all the appropriate accompaniments of tin horns, banners, and popular songs; and when the red and white sweaters made their appearance on the gridiron field, the "Rah! rah! rah! Williston!" quite owned the place. The enthusiasm changed sides, however, when the St. James team came out, for though they were plastered and bandaged, and shock-headed and disreputable, they came out to win. There was a little preliminary practice, and then the two captains declared themselves ready.
Williston won the toss and chose the west goal and the wind. The St. James team pulled off their old navy-blue sweaters and fell into position—Osborne, left end; Bates, left tackle; Travers, left guard; Miller (Captain), centre; Sargent, right guard; Fitzhugh, right tackle; Lewis, right end; Fluellen, quarter-back; Parker, McKloskey, half-backs; Atkins, full-back.