Practice was neither hard nor long that first afternoon. Some thirty-odd candidates had reported, of whom twenty or so represented what remained of last year’s first and second teams. The new candidates numbered scarcely more than a baker’s dozen. Frank Hopkins, although in foot-ball attire, took no part in the drudgery of passing and falling on the ball, contenting himself with wandering about the field or talking with Prentiss on the side-line. The real work was in charge of three of the first team members, Carter, Connor and Ward. There was very little system in evidence, and the veterans shirked barefacedly. Toward the end of the hour there was a good deal of rather aimless punting across the field and then the fellows were dismissed with instructions to report every afternoon at four o’clock. Evan, a little tired and sore, for the day had been a very warm one and a lazy summer had put him rather out of condition, walked up to the gymnasium with Gus Devens and Jelly. “How did you get on?” asked Devens. “All right, I guess. I told Prentiss I was out for quarter or half but he said they didn’t need those things and told me I’d better try for end. I’ve never played end, but I suppose I could learn.” “I dare say. How about you, Jelly?” “I don’t know. I saw Hop this noon and told him I wanted a fair show and he said I’d get it. Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t. All I want now is a shower.” “Here too,” agreed Devens. “Anything doing to-night, Jelly?” “A little something, I guess,” replied Jelly cautiously, with a quick glance at Evan. “I haven’t heard much about it.” Evan looked at the others inquiringly, but asked no questions, and Devens changed the conversation. “That’s a nice pair of trousers you’ve got there, Jelly. Why don’t you take a turn in them around the bottoms so as to keep them out of the mud?” “You dry up,” responded Jelly good-humoredly. “I had to have them big so as I could get them around me. I guess I’ll ask Mrs. Crow to cut them off for me.” “I would. Maybe she can make you an overcoat of the trimmings. Got a locker, Kingsford?” “Yes, thanks,” Evan replied as they climbed the gymnasium steps and pushed open the big oak door. “But I haven’t any towels yet. Can you loan me one?” “Sure thing――if I have any. I always forget to have ’em washed.” But investigation proved that he had three clean ones in his locker and he handed one over to Evan. “Toss it in the bottom here when you’re through with it, will you?” he asked. Evan promised and went off to get ready for his bath, encountering on the way Mr. George Washington Jell, who, hopping around on one foot, was pulling what appeared to be yards and yards of khaki trouser off the other leg. “Excuse me,” panted Jelly, as he bumped into Evan. “Oh, that you? These fool breeches――” “Here, sit down,” laughed Evan, “and I’ll pull them off. There you are. I really think I’d have Mrs. Crow fix those. You’ve got about a yard more than you need.”