Clif nodded. “Funny you being shy on English. The course doesn’t look hard in the catalogue.” “Oh, I don’t suppose it’s hard. I just never got up much interest in those guys that wrote literature. I’m pretty fair on math and Latin and history and the rest of the junk, though. Well, I’ll just have to make the best of it, I suppose. Got your schedule fixed up yet?” “No, I’m to see Mr. McKnight at half-past seven.” “We’ll probably get the same hours, mostly,” mused Kemble. “Fellow sufferers, we twain!” “Gee, if you don’t want to study or anything, what did you come here for?” demanded Clif impatiently. “Thunder! You don’t suppose I came because I wanted to, do you?” asked Kemble incredulously. “I wanted to stay where I was, at Morristown. I was dead sure of the First Team this fall, too, hang it!” “Where’s Morristown, and what First Team do you mean?” “New Jersey, of course. High School Team. I’d made the backfield certain if I’d been there. I nearly did it last year.” “Well, you can play football here, can’t you?” “Yes, and you can jump out the third-story window, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to fly! A swell chance I’d have to make the team here, Bingham! Oh, well!” “I guess it’s just a question of playing well enough. I’m going to try, anyhow.” “That so? Played much? What school?” “I haven’t played much, no,” answered Clif, “but I mean to. I played on our Second Team last fall, but just as a sub. I was too light. I’ve put on eight or ten pounds since then, though.” “Back?” “End.” “Half back’s mine. Still, I’d play――play center if they’d let me! Best you and I’ll make, though, is a class team or a hall team, or whatever they have here. Well, if the old high school gets licked this year it’ll be Wyatt’s fault.” Clif laughed, and then, remembering that here was an enemy, he froze up quickly. “I guess it would worry him to know that,” he remarked with immense sarcasm. “Look here, Kemble, how about to-morrow?” “To-morrow?” Kemble looked blank. “Yes, to-morrow,” answered Clif sternly. “You needn’t pretend you’ve forgotten.” “Oh, that! I really had forgotten, though; give you my word, Bingham. Why, any time you say. That is, if you really want to go on with it.” “I certainly do,” answered Clif emphatically. “Unless,” he added after an instant, “you care to apologize.” He hoped, when he had said it, that his tone hadn’t sounded as eager to Kemble as it had to him! “Apologize? Sure! Why not?” replied the other readily. “That’s much the best way, eh? You know, I’m about a dozen pounds heavier than you, old scout, and a couple of inches taller, too, and I guess――here, put your arm out.” Clif obeyed and Kemble tucked his fingers under the other’s armpit. “Just as I thought. I can outreach you by two inches.” “That makes no difference,” declared Clif warmly. “You said you’d fight me――” “Yes, I know,” broke in Kemble soothingly, “but I’ve apologized, haven’t I?” “No, you haven’t. You merely said you were willing to.”