Franklin, rubbing his face. "Look here, old man, you've got to come down to the 'Varsity grounds and put on a canvas jacket this noon—you've got to, you know."
"Oh, get out!" grunted Hart.
"But why not?" he kept thinking. Only two or three practice games had he seen and he had no idea that the whole college was waiting for his appearance. Nevertheless, as he had stood at the side lines, he had felt all the excitement of the strong man who watches the struggles of others; he had itched to try it.
"I believe I could play that game," he said, looking at Franklin from head to foot. "I'd just like a chance to put you on your back." He smiled grimly.
"Good! that's the proper spirit," Franklin laughed. "Shake a leg; it's time we were starting. You'll have to play opposite me. I'll make you hustle."
Green's football togs were a little bit tight and very stiff and muddy, but Hart managed to squeeze into them, and as he came out of the dressing-room he found a small crowd waiting to "size him up," as Tommy Wilson expressed it.
