“Sure.  You see most fellows want to be backs or ends; about eight out of ten want to be half-backs and the ninth wants to be either full-back or end.  The tenth fellow is willing to play in the line.”

“Oh,” said Clint.  “And how about quarters?”

“You have to almost beg ’em to try for quarter-back.  I don’t know why, but almost every fellow is leery of that position.  Usually a coach makes a quarter out of a fellow who thinks he’s a born half or end.  Well, I must beat it.  See you tomorrow, then?”

“Yes, indeed, I’ll be there!” replied Clint earnestly.  “Thanks for coming around.”

“Oh, that’s all right.  All in the way of duty, you know.  So long!”

Clint thoughtfully placed a marker in his book and closed it.

“That’s a good afternoon’s work,” he reflected, “but if it’s lost me a place on the second—­” He shook his head ruefully.  Then he smiled.

“Gee,” he murmured, “I don’t know whether I’m more scared of Mr. Simkins or Mr. Robey!”

The next day he made such a satisfactory showing in Greek that Mr. Simkins took him back into his good graces.  “Ha, Thayer,” he said, “you lead me to suspect that you spent a little time on your lesson last evening.  I am not doing you an injustice, Thayer?”

“No, sir, I put in two hours on it.”

“Marvellous!  Is there any other member of the class who wasted so much of his time in such manner?  Raise your hands, please.  One—­two—­three—­Burgess, you hesitate, do you not?  Ah, I thought so!  You were merely going to scratch your head.  Wise youth, Burgess.  Scratch hard.  Set up a circulation if possible.  Hm.  That will do, Thayer.  Burgess, if it is not asking too much—­”

Unfortunately—­or perhaps fortunately—­Clint’s showing on this occasion was accepted by Mr. Simkins as a standard to which future performances were required to conform.  “What has been done once may be done again, Thayer,” he would inform him.  And Clint, not being able to deny the logic of this statement, was forced to toil harder than ever.  But there came a time, though it was not yet, when he found that his difficulties were lessening, that an hour accomplished what it had taken two to accomplish before; and that, in short, Greek, while not a study to enthuse over, had lost most of its terrors.  But all that, as I say, came later, and for many weeks yet “Uncle Sim” pursued Clint in his dreams and the days when he had a Greek recitation were dreaded ones.

The afternoon following that on which he had absented himself from practice saw Clint approaching the field at three-thirty with misgivings.  He feared that Coach Robey would remember his defection against him and at the same time he knew that he would feel flattered if the coach did!  The question was soon settled, for Clint had no more than reached the bench when Mr. Robey’s eyes fell on him.

“Thayer!”

“Yes, sir!” Clint hurried toward him.