“Quarter, don’t hold that ball as though your hand was frozen; keep your hand limber and see that you get the belly of the ball in it, not one end; then it won’t tilt itself out.  When you get the ball from center rise quickly, put your back against guard, and throw your weight there.  And it’s just as necessary for you to have confidence in the runner as it is for him to have faith in you.  Don’t fear that you’ll be too quick for him; don’t doubt but that he’ll be there at the right instant.  Keep that in mind and you’ll soon have things going like clock-work.  Now once more; ball to left half for a run around right end.”

When practise was over that day the new candidates were unanimous in the opinion that they had learned more that afternoon under Mills than they had learned during the whole previous week.  Neil, Paul, and Cowan walked back to college together.

“Yes, he’s a great little coach,” said Cowan, “and a nice chap when you get to know him; no frills on him, you know.  And he’s plumb full of pluck.  They say that once when he played here at half-back he got the ball on Robinson’s forty yards and walked down the field and over the line for a touch-down with half the Robinson team hanging on to his legs, and said afterward that he thought he had felt some one tugging at him!” Neil laughed.

“But he doesn’t look so awfully strong,” he objected.

“Well, I guess he was in better trim then,” answered Cowan.  “Besides, he’s built well, you see—­most of his weight below his waist; when a chap’s that way it’s hard to pull him over.  I remember last year in the game with Erstham I got through their tackle on a guard-back play, and—­”

But Neil had already heard that story of heroic deeds, and so lent a deaf ear to Cowan’s boasting.  When they reached Main Street a window full of the first issue of the college weekly, The Erskine Purple, met their sight, and they went in and bought copies.  On the steps of the laboratory building they opened the inky-smelling journals and glanced through them.

“Here’s an account of last night’s election,” said Cowan.  “That’s quick work, isn’t it?  And you can read all about Livingston’s brilliant career, Gale.  By the way, have you met him yet?”

Paul shook his head.  “No, and I’m bearing up under it as well as can be expected.”

“You’re not missing much,” said Cowan.  “Hello, here’s the football schedule!  Want to hear it?” Paul said he did, Neil muttered something unintelligible, and Cowan read as follows: 

     “E.C.F.B.A.

     “SCHEDULE OF GAMES

     “Oct. 12.  Woodby at Centerport.
       " 16.  Dexter at Centerport.
       " 23.  Harvard at Cambridge.
       " 26.  Erstham at Centerport. 
      Nov. 2.  State University at Centerport.
       " 6.  Arrowden at Centerport.
       " 9.  Yale at New Haven.
       " 16.  Artmouth at Centerport.
       " 23.  Robinson at Centerport.”