"Some of you fellows may be first-rate material to work with," he said, addressing the freshmen, who had grouped themselves together as though for moral support. "In fact, we know some of you are from your records on the grammar school elevens. But of course," he added, just as some of the freshmen were beginning to throw out their chests a little, "the old players have the first call. That's only fair. It's common sense too. In the first place, they have had more experience and training. It takes some time to break in raw material to new rules and methods and trick plays. "Then too, as a rule, the upper classmen are older and bigger and heavier. They furnish more of the beef that is needed in hard games. Lots of you boys are husky specimens, but you haven't filled out as much as you will in a year or two. You'll all be pounds heavier and inches taller next year, and therefore worth that much more to the team. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule, and where newcomers show themselves quick to learn," he added, as the coach entered the gymnasium, "they have a chance. But it takes a pretty good fellow to get on the team the first year." This was not particularly encouraging to Garry and his friends. Still it left a loophole, and they looked with a gleam of hope at the coach as he entered the room. The coach was a tall, rangy young man named Al Garwin. He had a sleepy manner and a drawling voice, which the boys soon came to find were only a cloak for the fiery energy he possessed. He was one that mixed praise and blame with a liberal hand. He could raise a player to the heights one moment and drop him to the depths the next with no more personal feeling than if the subject had been a puppet pulled by a string. There was a sparkle in his half-closed eyes as he approached the boys, regulars and aspirants, who looked at him with a touch of misgiving as the arbiter of their fate. "Hello, fellows," he greeted. "Going to pull Lenox up to the championship again this year?" There was a roar of assent that brought a smile to the lips of the coach. "All right," he said. "Now let's see who's going to do it." A murmur of excitement ran through the group of aspirants. At last they were to get a line on their chances. But this was not to come in a hurry. Coach Garwin seated himself in a convenient chair, crossed one long leg over the other in leisurely fashion and ran his eye over a lengthy list that had been furnished him by Ralph Wynn. On this paper was a list of all the aspirants for the team with a brief statement of the experience they had had--if any--on the gridiron. The coach took so long at this that the boys fidgeted about uneasily. "I should think he could have done that just as well before he came here," Rooster whispered in Garry's ear. "I wish he'd hurry up and make a choice and get the agony over with." "Maybe after he's made the choice we'll wish he hadn't," replied Garry.