armine, who was personally conducting the substitutes
around the field. "Hello!" he greeted. "Tackle, you say? All right.
Follow along for awhile, will you? Now then, fellows, get this right!
Gafferty over! 36--41--17--8! 36--41--17--"

Clint tried to pick up the signals, but it was a hopeless task, and it
was not until Mr. Robey detailed one of the substitutes to teach him the
'varsity code that he was able to take part in proceedings. He went in
at right tackle for one of the two fifteen-minute periods and,
considering that he was still unfamiliar with the shifts and signals,
did very well. No one told him so, to be sure, but he knew without being
told, and emerged from the afternoon's practice thinking that perhaps,
after all, playing on the 'varsity was not such a difficult thing as he
had imagined it. But Clint's troubles hadn't begun yet.

That evening when he went in to supper he created an unintentional
diversion by proceeding, from force of habit, to the second team table.
It was only when he got there and found no seat awaiting him that it
dawned on him that he had made a mistake. The second team fellows broke
into a roar of laughter as Clint blankly surveyed them and, turning
hurriedly, made his way to the other end of the room. The rest of the
fellows sensed the situation after a moment and Clint passed table
after table of amused faces. Amy, grinning delightedly, reached far
across the board where he sat and, pointing at Clint with a baked potato
impaled on a fork, announced loudly: "A _contretemps_, Mr. Thayer, a
veritable _contretemps_!" Clint was blushing when he finally reached the
first of the tables occupied by the 'varsity players and found a vacant
chair. There, too, amused glances awaited him, and he was heartily glad
when Freer laughingly pulled him into the seat beside him.

They got a half-hour's leave from the Hall Master after supper, which
allowed them to remain out of the dormitory until half-past ten, and, as
soon as study hour was over, set out for the village and Mr.
Detweiler's. When they reached his room in the little boarding house
they found Mr. Boutelle there, but he left almost at once. Mr. Detweiler
made them comfortable, apologising for the unattractiveness of
his quarters.

"The fact is, fellows," he explained, "I didn't expect to stay over the
week when I came, and so brought nothing but a kit-bag. But Robey thinks
I ought to see him through, and, to tell the truth, I'm rathe