Kendall had watched the scrimmage from the bench, one of two dozen or so blanket-wrapped substitutes, none of whom he knew save by sight and none of whom was apparently aware of his existence. When, panting and perspiring, the members of the opposing teams rescued their sweaters and trotted or limped back to the gymnasium Kendall followed, secretly proud to be even an humble unit in that army of warriors. He had his shower like the rest of them――Ned having procured him a locker all his own――and dressed slowly, listening to the talk about him and watching the scene. Discouragement, as I have said, was the aftermath to-day. Even the Second Team fellows felt that the afternoon had been practically wasted. Kendall saw Dan, at first half undressed and then, later, swathed in a big towel, standing for minutes at a time talking earnestly, scowling the while, with Tom Roeder or Al Simms or Wallace Hammel. Everyone seemed cross and disgruntled. Mr. Payson, crossing the room once, looked out of sorts, something very unusual for him. Even the door when it closed behind him seemed to slam vindictively. A tussle over the possession of a towel which started good-naturedly between two boys at the farther end of the locker-room ended in a “scrap,” with friends of the contestants thrusting them angrily apart and showing a disposition to “start something” themselves on the slightest provocation. Kendall, who had climbed onto a bench to watch events, felt a bit disappointed when the two boys went off growling in different directions, leaving the towel, the bone of contention, quite forgotten on the floor. The steam from the baths eddied out and filled the room with a humid warmth, and from beyond the partition came the hiss of water and the sudden shriek of a bather as the cold stinging jets struck his glowing body. Little by little the babel of sound lessened. One by one, or in groups, the fellows slammed their locker doors and went out. Kendall, who had been ten minutes tying a shoelace, found himself almost alone. The lights were on now and outside the high windows was deep twilight. He finished his toilet, arranged his clothes in the locker, shut the door and dropped the key in his pocket. At the door of the stairway he turned for a final look over the big room with its disarranged benches, its water-stained floor, its litter of discarded or forgotten towels and its heavy, steamy odor. Somehow he felt that here at last was _life_!