Tom Fairfield's Schooldays; or, The Chums of Elmwood Hall Read online

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE CALL OF THE PIGSKIN

  "Maybe it's Professor Skeel," whispered George, apprehensively.

  "Or Merry himself," added Jack.

  "Nonsense!" replied Tom. "Neither of them would be in our dormitory atthis hour."

  "Unless they got wise to the fact that we went out, and they're layingto catch us when we come in," declared Bert. "If I'm nabbed I hope mydad doesn't hear of it."

  "Come on, fellows," came in a shrill whisper from Bruce. "It's onlyDemy, our studious janitor. He's boning over some book, and if you helphim with his conjugation, or demonstrate a geometric proposition forhim, he'll let you burn the school down and say nothing about it. Comeon; it's all right."

  They entered through the door, which was not locked, so that Bruce didnot have to use his key, and at their advance, into what was a sort ofstoreroom of the basement, the studious janitor looked up from a book hewas reading.

  "Well, well!" he exclaimed. "Is this--ahem! young gentleman, I hardlyknow what----"

  "It's all right, Demy," interrupted Bruce with a laugh. "I brought'em in. They want to help you do a little--let's see what you're at,anyhow?" and he looked at the book.

  "It's Horace," said the janitor. "I want to read some of his odes in theoriginal, but the translating is very hard, to say the least. Still, Iam determined to get an education while I have the chance."

  "Good for you!" exclaimed the Senior. "I'll help you, Demy. Horaceis pie for me. You fellows cut along to your rooms," he added,significantly. "You haven't seen them, have you, Demy?"

  "No, Mr. Bennington, not if you don't wish me to," and the janitor,with a grateful look at the Senior, prepared to listen to the Latin,while Tom and his chums, grateful for the aid given them, hurried up thestairs to their apartments.

  "That was fine of him, wasn't it?" remarked Jack, as good-nights werebeing whispered.

  "It sure was," declared Tom, wishing more than ever that he could helpthe unhappy Senior.

  "I wonder why the janitor wants to know Latin?" came from the humanquestion mark.

  "Oh, answer that in your dreams," advised Tom.

  From the fact that no mention was made of their little night excursion,Tom and the others concluded that the studious janitor had kept his pactwith Bruce. The latter told Tom afterward that he was kept busy givingLatin instruction until nearly midnight.

  "It was good of you," said our hero.

  "Oh, pshaw! I'm glad I can do somebody good," was the rejoinder. Thatwas Bruce Bennington's way. As Reddy had said, the Senior was his ownworst enemy.

  "Hear the news?" burst out Jack, as he entered the room where Tom wasstudying, a few afternoons later.

  "No, what news?"

  "Call for Freshmen and regular football candidates is posted. Practicebegins to-morrow. Let's get out our suits."

  "Fine!" cried Tom, tossing his book on the table, and scurrying for histrunk where he had packed away his moleskin trousers and canvas jacket.Jack soon had his out, looking for possible rents and ripped seams.

  "I've got to do some mending--worse luck!" exclaimed Tom, as he saw abig hole in his trousers.

  "Can you sew?" asked Jack.

  "Oh, so-so," laughed Tom. "I can make a stab at it, anyhow," and heproceeded to close up the rent by the simple process of gathering theedges together like the mouth of a bag, and winding string around them."There! I guess that'll do," he added.

  It was a clear, crisp day, and "the call of the pigskin" had beenheard all through the college. Several score of lads, in more or lessdisreputable suits, that had seen lots of service, assembled on thegridiron under the watchful eyes of the coaches.

  "I hope I make the regular eleven," said Tom, as he sent a beautifulspiral kick to Jack.

  "So do I," was the reply. "But I hear there are lots of candidates forit, and almost a whole team was left over from last season, so therewon't be much chance for us."

  The practice was more or less ragged, and, in fact it was only designedto let the coaches see how the new lads "sized-up." Several elevens weretentatively formed, and taken to different parts of the field to playagainst each other.

  Tom worked hard, and he was glad to note that one of the older playershad regarded him with what our hero thought were favorable eyes. Jackwas also doing well.

  This practice was kept up for several days, and about a week later ReddyBurke, meeting Tom, exclaimed:

  "Say, you fellows are in luck!"

  "How so?" asked Jack, who was with his chum.

  "You've made the eleven, I hear. You'll probably get notice to-day."

  "The regular?" cried Tom in delight.

  "Hardly! There's only one new fellow going on that, I understand, thoughyou might fill in as subs. But you're both going to play on the firstFreshman eleven."

  "The Freshman team," spoke Jack, somewhat disappointedly.

  "Say, what do you want?" asked Tom. "I think it's fine. Of course I wishit was the regular, but maybe next year----"

  "That's the way to talk," declared Reddy, who was on the leading teamhimself. "But I tell you that you're in luck to make the Freshman team.There are no end of candidates, but you two seemed to hit the mark."

  Tom rejoiced exceedingly, and when he received his formal notice, asdid Jack, our hero at once wrote to his parents, who were soon to reachAustralia. Tom had had several letters from them since leaving home, buthad yet to hear of their safe arrival. He sent the letter to Sydney, incare of his father's lawyer.

  There were busy days for our hero and his chums now. With lectures toattend, studying to do, and football practice, their time was prettywell occupied. Bert Wilson had made the Freshman eleven, and the threechums played well together.

  Tom had not seen much of Bruce Bennington since the night the Senioraided the first year lads, for Bruce was busy too, as he was on the'varsity.

  Tom found that football, as played at Elmwood, was very different fromthe Academy games, but he was made of tough material, and he soon workedwell into his place as right half-back, while Jack was left tackle.Several scrub games had been played, and the Freshman coaches seemedsatisfied with the work of their charges.

  "Hurray!" yelled Tom, running up to Jack one afternoon, as his chum wasstrolling across the campus. "Yell, old man!"

  "What for?"

  "We play our first regular game Saturday against Holwell college.They've got a strong team, but we're going to win! I'm going to make atouchdown!"

  "Good! Oh, say, it's great here!" and in the excess of their goodspirits Tom and Jack fell to pummelling each other in hearty fashion.