“Wh-what’s the row?” he asked sleepily.
“You,” answered Outfield. “You’ve been yelling ‘4, 9; 5, 7; 8, 6’ for half an hour. What’s the matter with you, anyhow?”
“The signals,” muttered Joel, turning sleepily over, “that’s a run around left end by left half-back. And don’t forget to start when the ball’s snapped. And jump high if you’re blocked. And—don’t—forget—to—” Snore—snore! “Well,” muttered West as he stumbled against an armchair and climbed into bed, “of all crazy games—”
But West was not in training and so possessed the faculty of going to sleep when his head struck the pillow. As a consequence the rest of his remark was never heard.
AN OLD FRIEND.
“MARCH! Joel March!”
Joel was striding along under the shadow of the chapel on his way from a recitation to Mayer and his room. The familiar tones came from the direction of the library, and turning he saw Stephen Remsen trotting toward him with no regard for the grass. Joel hurdled the knee-high wire barrier and strode to meet him. The two shook hands warmly, almost affectionately, in the manner of those who are glad to meet.
“March, I’m delighted to see you again! I was just going to look you up. Which way were you going?”
“Up to the room. Can’t you come up for a while? When’d you arrive? Are you going to stay now?”
“Third down!” laughed Remsen. “No gain! What a fellow you are for questions, March! I got in this morning, and I’m going to stay until after the Yates game. They telegraphed me to come and coach the tackles. Instead of going to your room let’s go to mine. I’ve taken a suite of one room and a closet at Dixon’s on the avenue. I haven’t unpacked my toothbrush yet. Come over with me and take lunch, and we’ll talk it all over.”
So Joel stuck his books under his arm and the two crossed the yard, traversing the quadrangle in front of University and debouching on to the avenue near where the tall shaft of the Soldiers’ Monument gleams in the sunlight. But they did not wait until Remsen’s room was gained to “talk it all over.” Joel had lots to tell about the Hillton fellows whom he had not lost sight of: of how Clausen was captain of the freshman Eleven and was displaying a wonderful faculty for generalship; how West was still golfing and had at last met foemen worthy of his steel; how Dicky Sproule was in college taking a special course, and struggling along under popular dislike; how Whipple and Cooke were rooming together in Peck, the former playing on the sophomore class team and going in for rowing, and the latter still the same idle, good-natured ignoramus, and liked by every fellow who knew him; how Digbee was grinding in Lanter with Somers; how Cartwright had joined the Glee Club; and how Christie had left college and gone into business with his father.