"Of course he will," said Tom, who was bubbling over with glee. "Honest, Bob, I can hardly wait for the umpire to call 'Play ball!' Aren't we going to pulverize Nat Wingate's crowd? I'll bet we whitewash 'em. Doesn't it make you tired to hear some of those fellows boast?"
"Ha, ha! I shall have to make a note of Mr. Clifton's comment on boasting." Benny Wilkins, wearing his usual grin, approached. "Congrats, Brandon and the whole bunch. Thought your weight and Somers' delicate nerve would carry you through. Lucky dogs!"
"I can see an awful lot of hard work before us," drawled Dave Brandon.
"But just think what jolly good fun it'll be getting the school a new athletic field," exclaimed Tom. "Hope some of the teams we play are strong enough to give us a pretty good tussle."
"Cut it out, fellows! I tell you I don't want you to say a word. I'm not putting up any kick."
Earl Roycroft's big form loomed up from among a group of gesticulating, excited admirers. Voices echoed sharply through the big gymnasium.
"How about Lawrence? How about Lawrence?" chorused a small coterie surrounding the new student and "Crackers" Brown.
"Rah, rah, rah for Bob Somers!" answered a challenging roar from lusty throats. "Three cheers for Coach Steele!"
The room seemed to shake with applause. The Somersites were clearly in the majority. A stream began pouring over to offer their well wishes to the members of the first regularly organized team of the Kingswood High.
Bantering remarks, cat-calls, came from the minority. Never in its history had the gym witnessed such a scene of noise, confusion and bustle. From out of the babel of sound came the repeated cry of: