the reading of books of adventure; and Captain Marryat
and Fenimore Cooper were far closer acquaintances than either Cicero or
Caesar. Richard Sproule was popularly disliked and shunned.

In the dining hall that evening Joel ate and relished his first hearty
meal since he had arrived at Hillton. The exercise had brought back a
naturally good appetite, which had been playing truant.

The dining hall takes up most of the ground floor of Warren Hall. Eight
long, roomy tables are arranged at intervals, with broad aisles between,
through which the white-aproned waiters hurry noiselessly about.
To-night there was a cheerful clatter of spoons and forks and a loud
babel of voices, and Joel found himself hugely enjoying the novelty of
eating in the presence of more than a hundred and fifty other lads.
Outfield West and his neighbors in Hampton House occupied a far table,
and there the noise was loudest. West was dressed like a young prince,
and his associates were equally as splendid. As Joel observed them, West
glanced across and saw him, and waved a hilarious greeting with a soup
spoon. Joel nodded laughingly back, and then settled in his chair with
an agreeable sensation of being among friends. This feeling grew when,
toward the end of his meal, Wesley Blair, in leaving the hall, saw him
and stopped beside his chair.

"How did you get on this afternoon?" Blair asked pleasantly.

"Very well, thanks," Joel replied.

"That's good. By the way, go and see Mr. Beck to-morrow and get
examined. Tell him I sent you. You'll find him at the gym at about
eleven. And don't forget to show up to-morrow at practice."

The elder youth passed on, leaving Joel the center of interest for
several moments. His left-hand neighbor, a boy who affected very red
neckties, and who had hitherto displayed no interest in his presence,
now turned and asked if he knew Blair.

"No," replied Joel. "I met him only to-day on the football field."

"Are you on the 'Leven?"

"No, but I'm trying for it."

"Well, I guess you'll make it; Blair doesn't often go out of his way to
encourage any one."

"I hope I shall," answered Joel. "Who is Mr. Beck, please?"

"He's director of the gym. You have to be examined, you know; if you
don't come up to requirements you can't go in for football."

"Oh, thank you." And Joel applied himself to his pudding, and wondered
if there was any possibility of his not passing.

Apparently there was not; for when, on the foll