“He was. Arthur used to have to drive him out of the room every afternoon to make him take exercise. But Arthur seems to have knocked some sense into him somehow. I was awfully surprised last week when I found him out for the Cross-Country Team. He told me yesterday that he’d never done anything but play a little tennis, but he’s taken hold in good shape.” “I suppose,” observed Dan, “that Merrow is Arthur’s penalty for heroism.” “That’s right. Ever since Arthur pulled Harry out of the lake that time Harry’s stuck to him like a brother.” “You had a hand in it, too. It’s lucky he didn’t decide to stick to you instead of Arthur. By the way, speaking of protégés, your friend down the hall has got tired, I notice.” “Who is that, Dan? Oh, I remember. You mean he’s given up football?” “Yes, I was looking over the list this afternoon and saw his name scratched off. Cowles says he’s stopped coming. Another ‘natural-born player’ gone wrong.” “That’s rather funny. I told you, didn’t I, that I had him in one afternoon? He seemed――well, not the sort of fellow to quit. I meant to look him up again. I rather liked him. But this cross-country work has kept me busy. Did he show anything in practice?” “N-no, I believe not. I think you prophesied quite a career for him, didn’t you?” “I said maybe,” laughed Gerald. “There was something about the chap that made me――sort of believe in him.” “I remember there was something,” Dan agreed. “Well, he will probably find himself in the course of time. Evidently football isn’t what he was looking for. Perhaps it’s just as well he dropped out, though, for the first cut comes next week and I guess most of Holmes’s ‘rookies’ will retire to private life.” “What does Payson think of the outlook, Dan?” “Says it’s an average one. There’s no one very startling in sight. That rather pleases Payson, though; you know he doesn’t fancy ‘stars.’ Says he’d rather have a team of common or garden variety of peggers.” “I thought Billy Norton was considered a ‘star,’” said Gerald with a smile. “He is――by Billy Norton,” replied Dan dryly. “He’s a star that will suffer eclipse if he doesn’t get down out of the clouds and play the game. Sayer is hot after him these days.” “Sayer,” mused Gerald. “Yes, he was rather good last year in the Porter game. Let’s see, we dropped Porter this year, didn’t we?” “Porter? No, we dropped Brewer. We have seven games instead of eight. Seven’s enough, too. Well, let’s go over to Cambridge and see what’s doing. I haven’t been near it yet.” Cambridge and Oxford were the two school societies, with rooms on the top floor of Oxford Hall. On their way down the stairs they met a boy coming up. Gerald nudged Dan. “Here he is now,” he whispered. The boy was Kendall, and as he reached the others he glanced up, said “How do you do?” and would have gone by had not Gerald spoken. “How are you getting on?” he asked. “Pretty well, thanks.” Kendall paused on the step above.