That first day was devoted principally to preparing for future labor. He and Tom visited several class rooms and listened to instructions and made notes. They bought books and stationery. They also visited Mr. Babcock, the Physical Director, in the gymnasium, which stood a few rods back of East Hall, and underwent tests. Since there were at least a dozen other fellows waiting, “Cocky” put them through expeditiously, handed each a small card bearing his name and a lot of figures and dismissed them. Then came dinner, followed by another visit to Middle where, in Room H, they listened while Mr. Waltman explained what a beautiful thing was the Science of Mathematics and how much pleasure could be derived from the study of it, if they would but realize it. “The Turk” also dwelt at some length on the results that might accrue to them if they didn’t realize it! Tom, who had taken a dislike to the instructor since last evening, made sarcastic comments under his breath and caricatured “The Turk” on the back of a blue book. Finally, having obediently taken note of to-morrow’s lesson, they were released. Going out, Clif glimpsed the wheel chair and its occupant rolling along the corridor toward East Hall. He had encountered them several times before during the day. Evidently, he concluded, the fellow was Third Class, too. He spoke to Tom about it. “I don’t know what class he is,” said Tom, “but his name’s Deane. I heard a chap call him that this morning. Get your togs and wait for me down front. I won’t be more than a minute.” They obtained adjoining lockers in the gymnasium and changed into football attire. Then, since they were early for practice, they snooped around the building, upstairs and down. The gymnasium was new and well appointed. The floor was large enough for two basketball games to be played at once, there was a good running track above, and, occupying the second story of the wing, a rowing room and two other apartments variously used for fencing, boxing, wrestling and possibly other sports. Underneath was a large baseball cage and a dressing room for visiting teams. The basement, which was half above ground and well lighted, held the lockers, a swimming pool, shower baths and the trainer’s quarters. On the main floor, near the front entrance, Mr. Babcock had his office. There were numerous trophies to be viewed and a wealth of pictures hung about the halls and rooms, most of the latter group photographs of teams and crews of former years. Here and there, however, was to be seen a picture of a football game or a view of a crew race. “‘1919――Wyndham 16――Wolcott 0,’” read Tom. “Huh! ‘1917――Wyndham by Seven Lengths.’ Say, it’s a funny thing you can’t find any photographs where we were licked!” “Well,” laughed Clif, “here’s a football game we only tied. ‘Wyndham 7――Wolcott 7,’ it says.” “That must have got hung up by mistake! But it’s a pretty nifty gym, just the same. Let’s go and see what the field’s like.”