Right Guard Grant. Barbour Ralph Henry

policy of giving every one a chance to make good. That’s why you’re sitting on the bench and a bunch of scrawny little would-be’s are letting High School shove over a score on us.”

      “You may be right,” answered Leonard, “but it seems to me that it’s only by giving every one a chance to show what he’s good for that you can be sure of not overlooking something. I’ve seen more than once a fellow who didn’t look like anything at all at the start of the season turn into something good later on.”

      “Sure, that happens now and then, but what of it? If the fellow really has ability he keeps on playing. He goes to the scrubs or one of the class teams. If he makes good there he mighty soon finds himself yanked back to the first. And the coach hasn’t wasted a week or two trying to find out about him.”

      “Well, I guess I’m – I’m conservative, or something,” laughed Leonard, “for I sort of like a team that starts slow and gets up its speed gradually. I know that back home our coach used to point us for our big game, the last one, and all the other games were taken as they came, more or less. Of course, when we played Delaware Polytechnic we smoothed out a bit and learned two or three new plays just beforehand, but we didn’t go out of our way much even for her.”

      “Oh, that’s all right, General. I don’t want to see any team hit its stride too early. Safe and slow is my motto, too, but that doesn’t mean you’ve got to get started a fortnight after school opens. Look here, I’ll bet you that next Saturday Johnny won’t be any nearer settled on the team’s make-up than he was to-day. Well, of course, he’ll know about some positions, but he’ll still be experimenting. Rus Emerson’s the same sort he is, too; has an ingrown conscience or – or sense of responsibility toward others. If Rus had his way any fellow who could borrow a pair of football pants could have a week’s try-out!”

      “Who plays us next Saturday?” asked Leonard.

      “Lorimer Academy. They’re a nice crowd of chaps, and they don’t give us much trouble. Last year, though, they did sort of throw a scare into us. We got three scores to their two. It was right after that we played a tie game with Hillsport and went into a jolly slump. Say, that guy Renneker didn’t show up so mighty wonderful to-day, did you think?”

      “N-no, he looked a bit slow to me. But I guess he hasn’t got used to the place yet. Either that or he was sort of saving himself.”

      “Saving himself for what?” demanded Slim.

      “Search me.” Leonard smiled. “Maybe he thought there wasn’t much use working too hard against a weak team like Alton High.”

      Slim shook his head, looking incredulous. “All I know is that the short time we were in together he was generally ‘on the outside looking in.’ Rather gives me the impression of being a poser. Still, to-day wasn’t much of a test; and he’s pretty big and perhaps the heat stalled him some. Hope he pans out big, for we sure need a corking good guard. Smedley’s a pippin, and Raleigh isn’t too bad, but we need another. To look at Renneker you’d expect him to be a hustler, but he didn’t show it to-day. He was outside most of the plays when I saw him. Not like Jim Newton. Jim’s always in the middle of it. For a center, Jim’s a live wire. Doesn’t matter much where the play comes in the line; Jim’s always sitting on the enemy’s head when the dust clears away! Say, I wish you’d switch your game, General, and try for tackle or something, something you’d have a show at.”

      “But you just said,” answered the other demurely, “that the team needed another good guard.”

      Slim grinned and shook his head. “All right, son, but I’d like to see you on the team. That’s all.”

      “Think one of us ought to get on, eh?”

      “Huh? Oh, well, there’s something in that, too. I’m not very sure of a place, and that’s no jolly quip. Gurley’s a good end, worse luck! And there’s Kerrison, too. But I’ll give them a fight for it. They’ll know they’ve been working if they beat me out, General! Let’s go and see what they’re giving us for supper.”

      Leonard met the captain that evening for the first time. Met him socially, that is to say, Russell Emerson and Billy Wells overtook Leonard and Slim on their way to the movies. Wells was one of those Leonard already had a speaking acquaintance with, but Emerson had thus far remained outside his orbit. Continuing the journey, Leonard fell to Billy Wells and Rus and Slim walked ahead, but coming home they paired differently and Leonard found himself conversing with the captain, at first somewhat embarrassedly. But the football captain was easy to know, as the saying is, and Leonard soon forgot his diffidence. Of course, football formed some of the conversation, but Leonard sensed relief on the other’s part when the subject changed to the pictures they had just witnessed. After that they talked of other things; the school, and Leonard’s home in Rhode Island – Rus, it seemed, had never been farther south than he was now – , and the faculty and some of the fellows. The captain seemed to take it for granted that his companion was familiar with the names he mentioned, although as a fact most of them were new to Leonard. Mention of “Jake,” the trainer, introduced a laughable story about Jake and a track team candidate, in which Rus tried to imitate Jake’s brogue. That reminded Leonard of Johnny McGrath, and he asked Rus if he knew him.

      “Yes, I’ve met him several times,” was the answer. “I’ve been trying to get him to try football. He’s a very good basket ball player and I’ve a strong hunch that he’d make a corking half. But his folks, his mother especially, I believe, object. He had a brother killed in the War, and his mother is dead set against taking chances with another of them. Too bad, too, for he’s a fast, scrappy fellow. The good-natured kind, you know. Plays hard and keeps his temper every minute. There’s a lot in keeping your temper, Grant.”

      “But I’ve heard of teams being ‘fighting mad’ and doing big things.”

      “Yes, the phrase is common enough, but ‘fighting earnest’ would be better. Just as soon as a fellow gets really mad he loses his grip more or less. He makes mistakes of judgment, begins to play ‘on his own.’ If he gets angry enough he stops being any use to the team. Of course there are chaps now and then who can work themselves up to a sort of fighting fury and play great football, but I suspect that those chaps aren’t really quite as wild as they let on. There’s Billy back there. He almost froths at the mouth and insults the whole team he’s playing against, but he never loses anything more than his tongue, I guess. The old bean keeps right on functioning as per usual. Billy doesn’t begin to warm up until his opponent double-crosses him or some one hands him a wallop! By the way, Grant, you’re on the squad, aren’t you? Seems to me I’ve seen you out at the field.”