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"Fred, you haven't got yourself mixed up at all with that 'sorehead' crowd, have you?" Miss Deane asked. "Not much!" replied Fred, with emphasis. "I want to play football this year." "Will all the 'soreheads' be kept out of the eleven, even if they come to their senses?" Clara inquired. "Now, really, you'll have to ask me an easier one than that," replied Fred Ripley laughingly.
And the school, too, must answer for the fact that although unless he is one of the small specialized set who "swat" at games he plays cricket and football quite without distinction, he regards these games as much more important than military training and things of that sort, spends days watching his school matches, and thumbs and muddles over the records of county cricket to an amazing extent.
Every student who honestly wanted to play football presented himself at the school gymnasium, on the afternoon named by Coach Morton for the call, including Drayne, who had been one of the original "soreheads." Drayne afterwards returned to the football fold, behaving with absurd childishness at the big Thanksgiving game, as our readers will recall.
Bob nodded in a friendly way. "Joining?" asked one. "Yes," replied Bob. "Had any previous training?" "While you were at school?" "Yes." "Which?" "Clifton." "Good! I know some of the chaps there. I was at Marlborough. We used to play cricket and football with Clifton. What years were you there?" Bob was about to reply, when a motor-car drove up, and a tall, military-looking man got out.
But to the young gentlemen I will say that, when the football season opens, we usually notice a great falling off in the recitation marks. This year I hope will be an exception. It has always been part of my policy to encourage school athletics, but I do not mind telling you that some members of the Board of Education notice that school percentages fall off in October and November.
"A man says that our ideas of space and time may be all wrong." "Aunt Polly will agree with him if we stand here much longer," said Dick. "Next. Hurry up." "You don't stop to think," Mollie said impatiently. "Try and think. Your head might just as well be a football. What I think is that if two un-understandable things are discovered about the same time they must belong to each other.
There is a conscious reaching out for wide fellowship with those who are interested in the same pursuits. The attraction of like-mindedness is a potent force in every department of life. Certain forms of relaxation or spirited rivalry have attained to the dignity of national sports. England has its football, Scotland its golf, Canada its lacrosse, the United States its baseball.
In the cabinet, beneath the laboratory table, another crook had been hidden and he tackled us with all the skill of an old football player against whom we had no defence. Four of them were upon us instantly.
May this great game go on forever, serene in its power to bring out the best that is in us, and when the Great Bugler sounds the silver-sweet call of taps for all too many, there will still be those who in their turn will answer the call of reveille to carry on the traditions of the great day that was ours. It is as true in football, as it is in life, that we have no use for a quitter.
"They'll get all they want!" These were only a few of the remarks that came to the ears of Bruce and Morse. "Something doing back there," remarked the football captain, nodding his head toward the rear. "Yes," agreed Bruce, "and I don't like it, either." "Why not? It's only Tom and his chums talking over what they're going to do to Sam and Nick, I expect." "Yes, and that's why I don't like it."
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