studious retirement simply because they had weight and promised
strength, and were duly tried and, usually, found wanting. One lucky
find, however, rewarded the search, a two-hundred-pound sophomore named
Browning, who, handicapped at the start with a colossal ignorance
regarding all things pertaining to the gridiron, learned with wonderful
rapidity, and gave every promise of turning himself into a phenomenal
guard or tackle.

On the 5th of October a varsity and a second squad were formed, and Neil
and Paul found themselves at left and right half respectively on the
latter. Cowan was back at right-guard on the varsity, a position which
he had played satisfactorily the year before. Neil had already made the
discovery that he had, despite his Hillton experience, not a little to
learn, and he set about learning it eagerly. Paul made the same
discovery, but, unfortunately for himself, the discovery wounded his
pride, and he accepted the criticisms of coach and captain with rather
ill grace.

"That dub Devoe makes me very weary," he confided to Neil one afternoon.
"He thinks he knows it all and no one else has any sense."

"He doesn't strike me that way," answered his chum. "And I think he does
know a good deal of football."

"You always stick up for him," growled Paul. "And for Mills,
too--white-haired, freckle-faced chump!"

"Don't be an idiot," said Neil. "One's captain and t'other is coach, and
they're going to rub it into us whenever they please, and the best thing
for us to do is to take it and look cheerful."

"That's it; we _have_ to take it," Paul objected. "They can put us on
the bench if they want to and keep us there all the season; I know that.
But, just the same, I don't intend to lick Devoe's boots or rub my head
in the dirt whenever Mills looks at me."

"Well, it looks to me as though you'd been rubbing your head in the dirt
already," laughed Neil.

"Connor stepped on me there," muttered Paul, wiping a clump of mud from
his forehead. "Come on; Mills is yelling for us. More catching punts,
I suppose."

And his supposition was correct. Across the width of the sunlit field
Graham, the two-hundred-and-thirty-pound center rush, stooped over the
pigskin. Beside him were two pairs of end rushes, and behind him, with
outstretched hands, stood Ted Foster. Foster gave a signal, the ball
went back to him on a long pass, and he sent it over the gridiron toward
where Neil, Paul, and two other backs were waitin