“I’ll try again,” said Rob, thrusting his hands in his pockets and falling into the queer drawl which he affected at times. “The team is like a very select club, Kingsford. If you know enough about foot-ball to kick the ball instead of biting it, and stand pretty well with――er――the manager or captain or some of the members, you can make it. Of course they’re always glad to have you go out and ‘try for the team’; it looks well and sort of adds interest. And of course you’re supposed to subscribe toward expenses. And when the team goes away anywhere to play, they allow you to go along and yell yourself hoarse. But don’t think for a moment, my friend, that you can make the team here by just playing good ball.” “That doesn’t sound very encouraging,” said Evan, with a frown. “Especially as I don’t know a single fellow here――except you.” “Well, at least you’ve got a speaking acquaintance with one other,” said Rob, dryly, the smile still lurking about the corners of his mouth. “Who do you mean? The fellow who――” “Yes, Frank Hopkins. He’s ‘the fellow who’――” “Well, that doesn’t help any, I guess.” “No; no, I don’t honestly think it does,” answered Rob, with a queer look. “Because, you see, Kingsford, Hop is the captain.” “Foot-ball captain?” cried Evan, in dismay. Rob nodded with a wicked grin. “Well, if that isn’t luck!” exclaimed Evan, subsiding on the foot of his bed to consider the fact. “I guess that settles my chances all right, Langton.” Rob nodded. “As I don’t want to nourish idle hopes, Kingsford, I’ll just remark that I think you’ve got the answer.” “Shucks!” said Evan, disgustedly. “And I thought I was going to have a great time this fall playing foot-ball. I wish I’d stayed at home, as my fond mother wanted me to. Say, you’re not fooling, are you?” “Not a bit. Of course I’ve exaggerated a trifle about the exclusiveness of our foot-ball society; it isn’t quite as bad as I made it out; but it’s bad enough. If you happen to be a crackajack player with a reputation behind you, one of those prep school stars that come along once in a while, you’re all right. But otherwise, Kingsford, you’ll have a mighty hard time breaking into Hop’s foot-ball trust. I know, for I tried it myself last year.” “Oh, do you play?” “I used to think so, but after working like a horse for three weeks and then pining away for a fortnight on the side-lines, I changed my mind. I know _how_ to play, but I don’t _play_. You catch my meaning, I hope.” “Yes,” said Evan, gloomily. “Still, I guess I’ll have a try.” “Of course you will,” said Rob, cheerfully. “It won’t do any harm, and you might even have a little fun. Besides, miracles still happen; you might get a place on the second team as third substitute. By the way, where do you play?” “I’ve played quarter mostly; sometimes half. I was quarter last year.” “On your school team?” “Yes, grammar school. We won every game except one, too.”