"I can guess what you've got in mind, Frank, but I'm not asking
questions. Only I do hope nothing prevents me from going into
that game. Somehow, all my life I've just longed to be a football
player. There's something about the game that seems to just stir
me up, as even baseball couldn't. And yet nobody would call me a
scrapper either," remarked Ralph.

"Oh, it isn't that always. Lots of good football players are
quiet, modest fellows, ready to mind their own business, if let
alone. I guess it must be something in a fellow's nature that
makes him long to buck up against difficulties, and down them. And
seeing that you've always been so quiet and unassuming a fellow, I
hardly know how to apply that to you, either. It's just born in a
man, that's what," and Frank clapped his hand affectionately on
his chum's shoulder.

Others were streaming along the road at the same time, homeward
bound.

"Look out, here comes a vehicle back of us," said Ralph presently,
when they were about half-way to Columbia Center.

They stepped to the side of the road, to allow the carriage to
pass.

"Why, it's Minnie Cuthbert and a friend!" said Ralph, suddenly.

At that Frank turned hastily, the color flying to his face like
magic; for that same name always had a wonderful influence over
him, since he and Minnie had long been the warmest of friends.