AN EFFORT IN SELF-DENIAL When Tommy opened his eyes the next morning, by the ringing of a bell, he found himself lying in an iron bed, between the whitest of white sheets. It was a most comfortable bed, and he stretched himself as he looked about the pleasant room. In an instant he found himself gazing straight into another pair of eyes, whose owner was sitting up in a bed just opposite his own.
 
“I say,” said the stranger, “where did you come from?”
 
“Wentworth, West Virginia,” answered Tommy, .
 
“Never heard of it. What’s your name?”
 
“Tommy Remington. What’s yours?”
 
“I’m Sexton. But, I say, I wouldn’t let myself be called ‘Tommy.’ That’s a kid’s name. Make ’em call you Tom.”
 
Tommy lay for a moment without replying. He had not thought of it before, but the stranger was right. “Tommy” was unquestionably a baby-name. Just then another bell rang.
 
“Hullo, there goes the second bell!” exclaimed Jack. “We’ve got to if we want to get any breakfast.”
 
He sprang out of bed, and Tommy followed him. He picked up a great, soft towel, and vanished through a door at the farther end of the room. In a moment Tommy heard a splashing of water.
 
“Hurry up,” called Jack. “Bring your towel and come in here, or you’ll be late.”
 
Tommy picked up his towel and hurried into the other room. He paused an instant at the door in . Jack stood under a wide stream of water, dancing fiendishly and rubbing his face and head.
 
“Come on in,” he . “It’s great fun.”
 
Tommy threw off his night-clothes, and in an instant was also under the stream. The water made him shiver when it first touched him, but his healthy asserted itself, and that first shower-bath was enjoyed to the uttermost. Then out again, with the great towels around them, rubbing the skin until it glowed.
 
“Gee-crickety!” exclaimed Jack, casting an admiring glance at Tommy’s neck and shoulders. “You’re a good un. Let’s feel your arm.”
 
Tommy obligingly held out his arm and made the biceps .
 
“Hard as a rock,” said Jack, fingering it with great respect. “You must have been in training all your life.”
 
“In training?” repeated Tommy. “I don’t know. I’ve been digging coal pretty near all my life.”
 
Jack gave a low whistle of .
 
“Digging coal? In a mine? Well, I’d dig coal for a year if I could get a pair of shoulders like yours. You’re just the man we need for guard.”
 
“For guard?” And Tommy remembered the three men with Winchester rifles who watched the company’s safe at Wentworth on pay-days.
 
“Yes, for guard. You’re too big to play back of the line, you know. Come on. I’ll introduce you to the captain.”
 
Tommy followed him, wondering bewilderedly what it was he was expected to guard. Down the stairs they went, and into the cool, airy dining-room, where some twenty boys were gathered, under of the house-master, Mr. Prime. Sexton introduced Tommy to the other boys, and though he felt somewhat shy at first, this wore off as the meal progressed. And such a meal it seemed to him!—the spotless napery, the shining table-service, the abundant, well-cooked food,—small wonder these boys seemed happy and brimming over with animal spirits!
 
It was not until after the simple little service in Edith , where the whole school gathered every morning to open the day’s work, that he met Captain Blake; for Blake, being in the fourth form, enjoyed the privilege of rooming in the great brick Upper House, apart from a house-master’s supervision. Blake shook hands with him, and then he and Sexton took him over to the gymnasium, stripped off his shirt, and looked him over. Tommy stood patiently while they examined him, and listened to Sexton’s enthusiastic praise.
 
“He’ll do,” said Blake, at last, nodding emphatically. “We haven’t another pair of shoulders and arms like that at Lawrenceville. The only question is, does he know how to use them? Now, Remington, what do you know about football?”
 
Tommy stared.
 
“I don’t know anything about it,” he said; “I never heard of it.”
 
“Well,” said Blake, smiling, “you won’t hear much else around here till after Thanksgiving. It’s a game, and we’re going to teach you how to play it. You bring him out this afternoon, Sexton, and we’ll give him his first practice.” And Blake hurried away to attend to some other of his multitudinous duties as captain of the school eleven.
 
That morning Tommy had an interview with the head-master, who questioned him closely about his studies and seemed much interested in him. The boy felt that here was a man upon whose sympathy and encouragement he could rely.
 
“I think you will get along all right,” he said at last, “though it will not be easy for you. But, with study, you should be able to keep up with your classes. My friend Bayliss has written me much about you,” he added. “He thinks a great deal of you, and you must try not to disappoint him. Mr. King will arrange your studies,” he concluded; and Tommy was turned over to the tutor.
 
He found Mr. King a kindly though somewhat impatient young man, who probed his to the bottom and soon just what classes he must join. His studies were scheduled, his text-books arranged, and the real work begun without delay—a routine much like that in all good preparatory schools.
 
Sexton carried him off immediately after lunch.
 
“I’ve got an extra suit,” he said, “I can lend you. I thought once that I could make the team myself, but I’m not heavy enough.” And he led the way to the gymnasium, where he opened a and produced the suit. And presently Tommy found himself arrayed in canvas jacket and great padded knickerbockers, long stockings, and shoes with heavy leather cleats on the bottom. Then he was taken out into the field, where he found some two dozen other boys similarly .
 
Blake nodded to them .
 
“You give him his first lesson, Sexton,” he said. “Tell him what it’s all about, and let him watch the other fellows awhile, until he catches on a little.”
 
So Sexton told Tommy about the game: How it is played by two teams each of eleven members, whose object it is to force the ball, an oblong sphere of pigskin, down the field before them, until they carry it past the end of the field, or gridiron. This is called making a “touchdown,” and scores five points. How the ball is then taken out into the field again and kicked, and if it passes between the two uprights and over the bar which are at the end of the field, it is called a “goal,” and scores another point. How if the ball is kicked over the bar from the field while it is in play, it is called “kicking a goal from field,” and also counts five points. Many other niceties of the game Sexton told him, which need not be set down here, and when the candidates for the team were ready to line up, he had a pretty good idea of what they were going to try to do. He watched them take their places and kick off the ball, and was soon shouting up and down the side-lines with the best of them. He had never seen such a game, and it appealed to his every instinct for good, , honest and .
 
“All right, Remington; come on out here,” called Blake, presently, and Tommy ran out. “Now you’re to play left guard,” continued Blake. “You stand right here next to the center. Now the minute you see the ball snapped back, you push this man opposite you out of the way, and charge ahead. If anybody else tries to tackle you, block him off this way with your elbows”; and Blake suited the action to the word. “Of course,” he added, “in a real game you wouldn’t be tackled unless they thought you had the ball, but just now I’m going to break you in a little, so that you’ll learn something about tackling for yourself.”
 
“All right,” said Tommy, and took his place in the line.
 
“Now keep your eye on the ball, fellows,” cautioned Blake. “One-six-eight-eleven.”
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