A boy almost as tall as himself, but of a lighter build, stepped from among a crowd of noisy students and walked toward them. Harry Spearman had prominent aquiline features and a manner which suggested a nervous, high-strung disposition.
"I tell you, Roycroft, these fellows are going to give a good account of themselves," he began. "Steele and Somers have just the right idea of training. Don't push your men too hard, they say, but keep them always on the move. Roger Steele'll soon have a crowd of base-runners that will make some of the fellows on the other teams look as slow as so many ice wagons."
A shade crossed Earl's face. Bob Somers had often expressed the opinion that if the big fellow only possessed a little more speed he would make one of the best players in the school. But, while Roycroft was good at almost every other angle of the game, he was sometimes apt to slip up when quick action was absolutely necessary.
"Better not boast too much, Harry," grinned Nat. "Wait until the Ramblers stack up against the Stars. We expect to pull off a few plays that may make 'em seem like never-wassers. The Rockville football eleven came over last fall, you know, and Bob Somers' crowd didn't cut any great figure in the game."
Harry Spearman's eyes snapped scornfully.
"Suppose they did beat us? That isn't much to brag about," he retorted. "When the Ramblers got back to school this term there was no athletic association; everything was disorganized—you know that, Wingate——"
"Gee! Another dandy hit," broke in Roycroft. "Dave Brandon certainly smacked the ball that time. Look at it—still sailing. I'll bet it's bound for Rockville."
"Of course you do, Nat," went on Harry, paying no attention to this interruption. "Before, it was all hit or miss—mostly miss; and nobody seemed to care."
"Correct," added Earl. "Bob plunged right in, and, with up-to-the-minute plans, got the athletic association started, football and baseball committees formed, and made arrangements with all the various schools around to play a regular schedule of games."
"Oh, I suppose he has your big colleges beaten to a frazzle on the fine points of the game," exclaimed Nat, with a barely perceptible sneer.