"Oh, they'll get over it," was the cheerful reply. "Just you pay no attention to 'em, mind your own affairs and look as though you didn't give a rap." "That's what Laurence said," replied Roy thoughtfully. "Sensible chap, Laurence," said the other smilingly. "Who might he be?" "My brother. He's in Harvard." "Oh, yes, I remember some one said your brother was 'Larry' Porter, the Harvard football man. I guess that's how you happen to put up such a dandy game yourself, eh?" "I don't think I've done very well," answered Roy. "But--it hasn't been all my fault." "Nonsense! You've played like an old stager; every fellow says that." "Really?" asked Roy eagerly. "Of course! I've heard lots of the fellows say that Bacon will have to do better than he ever has done to keep his place. And I know what you mean about its not being all your fault. But I guess the chaps on your squad will behave themselves after the dressing down Jack gave them the other day." "Were you there?" "No, I don't very often watch practice. I don't care much for football, I'm afraid. Baseball's my game. No, I wasn't there, but Sid Welch was telling me about it. Sid's a very communicative kid." "He's trying to make the team," said Roy, smiling. "He asked me one day if drinking vinegar would make him thinner." "He's a funny little chump," laughed the other. "Not a bad sort, either. He has the bed next to mine, and he and I are pretty good chums. By the way, you didn't tell me what it was your brother said." "Oh, why, he said once that if I wanted to get on I must keep a stiff upper lip and mind my own affairs. And--and he said 'when you're down on your luck or up against a bigger fellow grin as hard as you can grin.'" [Illustration: "'Of course I wasn't christened Chub.'"] "Good for him!" cried the other. "I'd like to meet him. That's what I say, too. No use in looking glum because you're put out at the plate. Just smile and keep your mouth shut, and likely as not you'll make good the next time. Besides, if the other chap sees you looking worried it makes him feel bigger and better. Yes, that's good advice, all right. By the way, I know your name, but I guess you don't know mine; it's Chub Eaton." "Are you a Senior?" "Same as you, Second Senior. Of course, I wasn't christened Chub; my real name's Tom; but the fellows began calling me Chub the first year I was here because I was kind of fat then, and I didn't mind. So it stuck. Well, here's the canoe. Just give me a hand, will you? We'll put her over the end of the float." The boat house was deserted, but out in mid-stream was a pair-oar and a rowboat, the latter well filled. Roy helped in the launching and soon they were afloat. "It's an awful handsome canoe, isn't it?" asked Roy.