dn't shown himself especially delighted at Roy's
advent, but so far had refrained from addressing him. For a time the
work went well enough. Each squad, since there were not enough players
present to make up two full elevens, held nine men, five in the line and
four behind it, and the work consisted of snapping the ball back by
center and handing it to one of the backs by quarter. No signals were
used and the passing was slow, the idea being merely to accustom the
players to handling the ball. Roy was instructed in the holding of the
pigskin and in passing and the backs in receiving the ball and placing
it against the body. Roy showed an aptitude for the work which more than
vindicated Mr. Cobb's judgment and for ten minutes or so, during which
time Roy's squad traversed the length of the field, there were few
fumbles and few mistakes. But presently, when Mr. Cobb had taken himself
off to the other squad, the cry of "Ball!" went up and Roy was on his
stomach snuggling the oval in his arms. The backs took their places
again and the ball went back to center. This time there was no hitch,
and full-back, followed by left and right halves, trotted through the
line between guard and tackle. But on the next play the erratic pigskin
again eluded Roy's hands, and after that fumbles and the cry of "Ball!
Ball!" became so frequent that Mr. Cobb's attention was attracted and he
came over.

"What's the trouble here? Who's doing all that fumbling?" he demanded.

"My fault, sir," answered Roy.

"What's the matter?"

"I can't seem to get my hands on to it, sir. I don't think--I don't
think it is coming back very well."

Horace Burlen turned wrathfully.

"You're no good, that's what's the trouble with you!" he exclaimed. "I'm
sending that ball back same as I always do."

"Well, try it again," said the coach.

Strange to tell there were no more fumbles as long as Mr. Cobb was by,
but almost as soon as his back was turned the trouble began again.
Fumbles, perhaps, were not so frequent, but almost always there was
delay in getting the ball from center to back. Finally Horace Burlen
stood up and faced Roy disgustedly.

"Say, kid, can't you learn to handle that ball?" he asked. "Haven't you
ever seen a football before?"

Roy strove to keep his temper, which was already at boiling point.

"I'll do my part if you'll do yours," he said. "You're trying to see how
poorly you can pass."

"Oh, get out! I played football when you were