“You don’t? Well, I do. And look here; suppose you should make the team, and suppose you were wanted to play against Broadwood. What would you do in that case? Run a four mile cross-country race in the morning and then play in a gruelling football game in the afternoon?” Gerald’s face fell, but he answered stoutly: “I don’t see why not.” “You don’t?” Dan laughed. “You would, though, before the game was very old. Besides, Gerald, you know very well that Muscles won’t let you go in for both.” “He told me I might.” “Cross-country and football both?” “He told me I might play football, and he knows very well that I’m on the Cross-Country Team.” “He may know it, but he’s forgotten it. And it won’t take him long to remember it, Gerald. Anyhow, it’s a sure thing that he isn’t going to let you do both.” “Then I’ll give up cross-country work,” said Gerald. Dan shook his head smilingly. “I don’t believe it. It wouldn’t be fair to the school, Gerald. A fellow’s got to do what he can do best; that’s a duty. Suppose I gave up baseball in the spring and said I wanted to try for the Tennis Team!” Gerald had to smile at that. “The Tennis Team would beg you to keep on with baseball, Dan!” “Probably, but the idea’s the same. I wouldn’t have any right to cut out baseball just because I wanted to do something else more. And you haven’t any right to give up cross-country running, Gerald.” “Then I can’t play football after all?” questioned Gerald disconsolately. “Not if you’re going to do the square thing.” “That’s all right,” said Gerald mutinously, “but it seems to me that a fellow has some right to do what he likes best.” “Perhaps. The question is, though, how much right? You know,” continued Dan with a twinkle in his eye, “we have a motto here at Yardley, Gerald. I wonder if you’ve ever heard it.” “What?” Gerald demanded suspiciously. “‘The School first,’” replied Dan quietly. Gerald’s eyes fell and he was silent a moment. Then, “Just the same,” he muttered, “it’s hard lines after wanting to play so long. And I won’t be able to play baseball in the spring because I’ll have to train with the Track Team!” “You’re too ambitious,” laughed Dan. “Why not be satisfied with the glory you have? You’re a good cross-country runner, you’ve won your letter in hockey and track; isn’t that enough?” “But I’m not thinking of glory,” argued Gerald. “I want to play football because I like it.” “Then join your class team.” “That isn’t――isn’t the same thing.” “Why not? It’s football. And you say you don’t want the glory.” “I don’t, but――” Gerald’s explanation was cut short by a knock on the door. He frowned at the interruption, glanced inquiringly at Dan and cried “Come in!” The order was obeyed and a boy of about Gerald’s own age, but taller, larger and sturdier, entered and stood embarrassedly in the doorway. “Is――is Mr. Vinton in?” he asked.