“You, Todd! Why, you’re coming ahead so fast that you’ve got Johnny Cade blinking. I could tell you something that would make you open your eyes, but I mustn’t. Well, I’ve got to be getting back down there and earning my princely wage. Don’t forget to show up at training table to-night. I’m responsible for you.” “I won’t. And--say, I’m glad you really think I’m getting on. It was right hard at first to get the hang of things. Maybe I ain’t got the hang of ’em yet, but I guess I’m some better.” “Rather! That’s speaking very mildly, too. See you later!” Being only human, Jim sat there and basked in the sunshine of Lowell’s praise for some time. He had worked hard and faithfully and until now he had never been assured that he had really won success. Of course, Clem had spoken encouragingly many times, but Clem was a friend and no football man and maybe didn’t know. Lowell Woodruff was different. Lowell knew football and football players and he was on the inside. Jim hugged his knees and felt that life was a very satisfactory affair. And then, when practice was over, he followed the players back to the gymnasium, realized that he had no reason for going inside and so wandered across the campus and through State street and at the next corner met with an encounter that caused him to reconsider his opinion of life. There was a conference in Coach Cade’s quarters that Monday evening. The coach occupied rooms in the old-fashioned white house at the corner of Academy and State streets, opposite the main gate to the campus. His living-room was a comfortable place of faded carpet and old walnut furniture brightened by such modern things as a handsome electric lamp on the big round table, a steel filing cabinet and many books and magazines littering the apartment. To-night were present the host himself, Captain Gus Fingal, Lowell Woodruff, Johnny Barr, Pep Kinsey, Steve Whittier, Rolls Roice, Billy Frost and Charley Levering. Coach Cade, seated by the table, held several sheets of paper in one hand and a briar pipe in the other. The visitors sat around the table or adjacent to it and were respectfully attentive to the coach’s words. “I thought,” Mr. Cade was saying in his quiet, pleasant voice, “it was about time for some of us to get together and look over the ground. I asked two or three more to be present to-night, but I don’t see them. Perhaps they’ll show up later.” “My fault, Coach,” said Lowell. “I couldn’t get in touch with them in time.” “Then it wasn’t your fault, Lowell. But there are enough of us here to discuss things, and a discussion is about all I had in mind. You see, fellows, Saturday’s game finished the half-season. From now on we’ll be pointing to the Kenly game. What comes before that must be met as best it can. Our job now, and it’s a big job, too, is to build up for Kenly Hall.” “Don’t forget Mount Millard, Mr. Cade,” said Billy Frost. “We’ve got to lick them, sir, after what they did to us last year!”