He was looking for you." "Wh-what for ?" asked Tom faintly.
"Robey says you're not to break training, Tom! You're to report at the 'varsity table to-night for supper!" Whereupon Steve, his eyes dancing, jumped from the bed and pulled Tom to his feet.

"What do you say to that, old Tommikins ?" he exulted.
Tom, dazed, smiled weakly.

"Do you mean--do you mean they want me to _play_ ?" he murmured.
"Oh, no," scoffed Steve, pushing him toward the bed on which he subsided in a heap.

"They want you to carry the footballs and sweep the gridiron! Of course they want you to play, you old sobersides! Don't you see that with Sawyer on pro there's a big hole in the line?
I suppose they'll give Churchill the first chance at it, but he won't last the game through.

Think of both you and I making the 'varsity, Tom! How's that for luck, eh?
Not bad for the old Tannersville High School, is it?
I guess we've gone and put Tannersville on the map, Tom!" "Gee, I'm scared!" muttered Tom, looking up at Steve with wide eyes.
"I--I don't believe I'll do it!" "You don't, eh?
Well, you're going to do it! Get your old duds on and hurry up.