"Ha, ha!" laughed Lawrence. "The idea of Steele putting him on instead of Roycroft!"
"Now the big fellow will have all the chance he wants," exclaimed Brown, decidedly. "I'll stimulate his bump of ambition by making him captain of the nine."
"Capital idea! I suppose the Somers crowd will entrench themselves behind the regularity racket. That set of iron-clad by-laws Tom Clifton got up doesn't recognize any little outlaw scheme like ours."
"Red tape versus common sense. I take it that the school has some say in things of this sort. If Steele will agree to take on the players we suggest—all right; if not"—"Crackers" spoke as mildly as though ordering a plate of pie—"the worst insurrection in the history of the school is about to begin."
"The fellows'll soon be coming over to our side so fast that it will make you think of an avalanche in the Alps," predicted Owen. "What's that?" He put his hand to his ear. Faint cries of "Rah, rah, rah for Somers!" were coming over the still air from somewhere in the distance. "That kind of thing only makes it more interesting," added the new student, with a grin.
"Let's get over on the field. There's a big bunch ready for practice," said Brown.
Every member of the regular club was present when the "Outlaws," as Benny Wilkins had dubbed the new set of players, got to work.
Tom Clifton surveyed the proceedings with a heavy scowl, treating with silent scorn, for the most part, the jibes which were occasionally flung toward him by members of the opposition.
"Honest, Bob, it makes me almost boil over," he confessed. "Listen to that buttermilk voice of Brown's!" He turned, as a hand was laid on his shoulder. "Oh! How are you, Steele! What do you think of this?"
"I'm sorry there's disaffection in the school," answered the coach; "otherwise I'm prepared to enjoy the afternoon."