All Grafton, in togs or out, was flocking toward Lothrop Field, and Hugh’s immaculate costume was no longer spectacular once they had joined the throng, since at least half the entering class appeared to have donned football attire quite as fresh and unsullied as his. The juniors were not allowed to try for the School Team but, under the direction of Mr. Sargent, Athletic Director, were trained in the science of the game and later herded into a first or second junior eleven and held notable contests. Still later, the upper-middle and lower-middle classes formed teams and they and the first juniors battled for the class championship, a much-coveted prize. Already a few tennis enthusiasts were busy on the courts as Bert and his companion passed through the gate, and Hugh stopped a moment to watch. “I dare say a chap doesn’t have much time for tennis if he plays football,” he remarked questioningly. “None at all,” said Bert. “Do you play?” “A bit. It’s a rip――a corking game, I think. If I don’t have any luck with football I’ll have to go in for it. I saw a notice up about a Fall Tournament, I think.” “Yes, they have one in a week or two. We’ve got some rather decent players here. Last year we didn’t do a thing to Mount Morris.” “You mean to say you beat them, eh?” “We certainly did! They didn’t have a chance. By the way, have you a racket?” “Oh, yes; thanks.” “I sold a peach to Nick yesterday for a dollar and a quarter. I was thinking maybe you might have liked it.” “That’s awfully good of you,” replied the other gratefully, “but I’m fixed very well for rackets. I brought three along.” “Three! Then I guess you wouldn’t have needed that one. There’s your crowd over there, Hugh. You wait with them, and Bonner will be after you in a few minutes.” “They’re the rookies, eh? Right, old chap. See you later, then.” What happened to Hugh that afternoon Bert didn’t have much time to discover, for the regulars had a pretty busy session. But afterwards, back in 29, Hugh recounted his experiences with a quiet drollery that brought many chuckles from Bert. “It was all rather different from what I’d thought,” said Hugh, reflectively rubbing a sore knee. “A chap named Hannigan――――” “Hanrihan,” corrected Bert. “Sub tackle.”