This is better: 'Experienced end and clever half-back want positions on Football Team. Interview arranged. Address "Neglected," care Lantern.' How's that?"
"I don't believe the Committee ever reads the Lantern," said Clif.
"They ought to, for it's a very truthful publication. Like last week when it said that sixty-something candidates were 'frying for the Team.' Maybe it meant to say 'trying,' but, considering the weather, it was dead right. Well, the best we can expect, Clif, is to make the Second; and we may get left there!"
"I don't see how. They've got to have somebody for it, and if Mr. Otis makes another cut Monday, as they say he's going to, there won't be many left."
"Huh! Maybe we'll be among the—the cutees! Oh, well, never say die. Let's go down and see what they're getting on the radio."
There was a brand-new notice on the board outside the locker room door on Monday when Clif reached the gymnasium, and his heart missed a beat as he stopped to read it. He was alone, since Tom had a late recitation, and he was glad of it just then. "Attention Football Candidates," he read. "The following players will report to Coach Babcock on Second Team field at 3:30 Monday: Adams, Ames, Bingham—"
Clif drew a long breath. His feelings oddly combined disappointment and relief. For the first moment disappointment was uppermost, but then the realization that he had long since discounted being dropped from the First Team, and that as lately as Saturday
