It was the call of the coach and captain to the improvised regular eleven and the scrub.  Twenty-two rather nervous lads faced each other—­no, not all of the twenty-two were nervous, for there were some veterans—­warriors of past battles—­who were as cool as the proverbial cucumber.  But the new lads—­those who hoped to make the first eleven—­were undoubtedly nervous.  And so, too, were some of those who had played before, for they had not yet found themselves this season, and they did not know but what their playing might be so poor and ragged that they would be ordered to the side lines.

“Line up!  Line up!”

Again came the stirring cry.  The scrub team, under the leadership of their captain, withdrew for a short consultation regarding signals, and to plan how best to stop the rushes of the regular lads.  The latter, under the guidance of Morse, were ready to put the ball into play, for the captain and coach had decided to see what value their side was in rushing tactics, before going on the defense.

“All ready now, boys!” exclaimed the coach briskly.  “Get into the plays on the jump.  You can do twice as well if you have speed than if you have not.  Hit the defense hard, get some momentum back of you.  A moving body, and all that sort of thing you know, that you learn in your physics class.

“Jump into the plays.  Meet the ball; don’t wait for it to get to you.  That applies to you backs,” and he nodded at Tom and his two mates.  “Quarter, don’t fumble when you pass the ball back.  Be accurate.  Don’t make a mistake in the signals.

“You guards and tackles, hold hard.  Tear holes big enough for the man with the ball to get through.  Don’t be afraid.  Ends, you want to get down like lightning on kicks.  Nail in his tracks the man who catches the ball, but don’t, for the love of the pigskin, touch him until he has it, or you’ll be offside.  Watch out for fake kicks, forward passes, double passes—­watch out for all tricks.  If there’s a fumble, fall on the ball and stay there, unless you see a chance to run with it.  You fellows who expect to do any toe work, don’t get nervous.  The boys will hold the others back until you get a chance to boot the ball away.  And you fellows in the line, see that you do hold.

“There!” concluded the coach with a sigh.  “I’ve given you enough football instructions to last all season.  Now get busy and let’s see how much of it you remember.”

“Line up!” cried Captain Morse Denton, and, the preliminaries having been arranged, the ball was kicked off by the scrub, as the other players wanted to see how well they could rush it back.

It was Tom’s luck to capture the yellow spheroid as it descended, and, well protected by interference, he raced down the field.

“Get him, fellows!  Get him!” appealed the scrub captain, and several made an effort to break through to tackle Tom.  Our hero noticed that Sam Heller was running interference for him on the left, and for a moment Tom felt that perhaps he had misjudged Sam in one particular.