celled him in sending their men to the post in
superb condition. He had an unerring eye for an athlete and knew how to
bring each individual to the very top of his form. Whatever was in him
he brought out to the full. He was a universal favorite in the college.
All the boys swore by him, although at times perhaps--for his temper was
as red as his hair--they were tempted to swear _at_ him. But if they
ever did, it was under their breath, for Reddy was an autocrat, and in
his own domain ruled with an iron hand.

Just now, he was, as he himself put it, "as busy as a one-armed
paperhanger with the hives." Dinner was over and the football
candidates, scrub and 'Varsity alike, were getting into their togs and
undergoing the searching scrutiny of Reddy. There were bad knees and
ankles and shoulders galore. He began at the soles of the feet and went
up to the crown of the head.

"Take off those shoes, Kincaid," he commanded. "The soles are worn so
thin that you can't help feeling the cleats through them. Before you
know it, your feet'll be so bruised that you'll be wanting a crutch."

"Those phony ankles again, eh," he remarked, as he noticed a slight
wobbling on the part of Anderson. "Here," to an assistant, "give me that
tape." And with the skill of a surgeon he applied strips of adhesive
tape along each ligament, leaving a narrow space down the instep free
from bandaging to allow free circulation of the blood. And when he got
through, the "phony" ankle was so protected that it was practically
impossible for it to turn under its owner.

So, step by step, he went up the human frame that he knew so well. Shin
guards were handed out to the forwards to help them against the fierce
hammering that they would have to meet. Pads were strapped below the
knee and left loose above to give free play to the joints. The thighs
were protected by fiber, and large felt pads covered the hips and
kidneys. Then with shoulder and collarbone pads, topped by a head guard,
the costume was complete. Then Reddy stood in the door that led to the
presence of the coach and not a man went through until the trainer's
critical eye pronounced him ready for the fray.

"Don't hurry," he said goodnaturedly, as some crowded past him. "'Tis
quick enough ye'll be getting in there, I'm thinking," and his eyes
twinkled, as he thought of the castigation that awaited them.

To tell the truth, they did not hurry. There were no bouquets awaiting
them. They knew th