m stiffened, ready to take the pigskin, and, at the same time he
moved up a little nearer Sam, for somehow, he felt that the passing of
his enemy might not be just accurate. And it was well that he did, for
the quarterback threw the ball short.

"Look out!" cried the captain, but his warning was not needed, for Tom
made a jump and met the pigskin. With it safely tucked under his arm,
he made a jump between guard and tackle in the hole made for him by his
players, and completed the gaining of the necessary distance.

"Down!" he panted, as nearly half a score of lads threw themselves on
top of him. "Down!"

"Good work, old man!" the captain shouted in his ear. "Great
line-bucking!"

"But almost a fumble!" came the sharp voice of Coach Jackson. "What
was the matter, Fairfield? You nearly dropped the ball."

"It wasn't passed accurately," asserted Tom.

"Aw, go on! It was so!" snapped Sam.

"Well, don't let it happen again," advised the coach. "Fumbles are
costly--they mean the loss of a game many a time. Watch yourselves!"

The play went on, with the luckless scrubs being shoved slowly back
toward their own goal. There they took a brace, and held for downs,
getting the ball. They quickly kicked it out of danger, and then the
regulars went to work to do it all over again.

Tom was called on several times, and, though he watched Sam narrowly,
there was no further cause for complaint about the passing of the ball.

"Maybe it was a mistake," thought Tom, "but I'm going to be on the
lookout just the same. I don't trust Sam Heller."

"That will do for to-day," called the coach, after two touchdowns had
been rolled up against the scrub, Tom making one of them. "Take a good
shower and a rub now, all of you, scrub included, for there's no
telling when I may want one of you scrub lads on the first team.
You're doing pretty well," he allowed himself to compliment them. "But
there's lots to be done yet. We're only beginning. Morse, come here,
I want to talk to you," and captain and coach walked off the gridiron,
arm in arm.

"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Jack of Tom, as the two came out
of the gymnasium, glowing from a rub and shower.

"Oh, it seemed to go all right."

"Heller try any mean tricks?" asked Bert.

"I thought he did, but maybe I was mistaken. Oh, but I got one beaut
kick on the shin," and Tom gently massaged the leg in question.

"Some lad tried to gouge out one of my eyes," ad