n,
charged a few yards, and then, as though reconsidering, turned and
trotted back, only to repeat the performance the next moment. And
footballs banged against broad backs with hollow sounds, or rolled about
between stoutly clad feet, or ascended into the air in great arching
flights. And a babel of voices was on all sides, cries of warning, sharp
commands, scathing denouncements.

"Straighten your arm, man; that's not a baseball!" "Faster, faster! Put
some ginger into it!" "Get on your toes, Smith. Start when you see the
ball coming. This isn't a funeral!" "Don't stoop for the ball; fall on
it! The ground will catch you!" "Jones, what _are_ you doing? Wake up."
"No, _no_, NO! Great Scott, the ball won't _bite_ you!"

The period was that exasperating one known as "the first two weeks,"
when coaches are continually upon the border of insanity and players
wonder dumbly if the game is worth the candle. To-day Joel, one of a
squad of unfortunates, was relearning the art of tackling. It was Joel's
first experience with that marvelous contrivance, "the dummy." One after
another the squad was sent at a sharp spurt to grapple the inanimate
canvas-covered bag hanging inoffensively there, like a body from a
gallows, between the uprights.

There are supposed to be two ways to tackle, but the coach who was
conducting the operations to-day undoubtedly believed in the existence
of at least thrice that number; for each candidate for Varsity honors
tackled the dummy in a totally different style. The lift tackle is
performed by seizing the opponent around the legs below the hips,
bringing his knees together so that further locomotion is an
impossibility to him, and lifting him upward off the ground and
depositing him as far backward toward his own goal as circumstances and
ability will permit. The lift tackle is the easiest to make. The dive
tackle pertains to swimming and suicide. Running toward the opponent,
the tackler leaves the ground when at a distance of a length and a half
and dives at the runner, aiming to tackle a few inches below the hips. A
dive tackle well done always accomplishes a well-defined pause in the
runner's progress.

Joel was having hard work of it. Time and again he launched himself at
the swaying legs, bringing the canvas man to earth, but always picking
himself up to find the coach observing him very, very coldly, and to
hear that exasperating gentleman ask sarcastically if he (Joel) thinks
he is playing