On Tuesday the Scrub had its first line-up and ran through a few formations. Adams was at left end, Ames at left tackle, Greene at left guard, Ridgway at center, Henning at right guard, Coles at right tackle, Bingham at right end, Jackson at quarter, Kemble at left half, Stiles at right half and Thayer at fullback. But as “Cocky” explicitly stated that no one could be sure of his position until he had definitely earned it, and as none save Henning and “Wink” Coles kept his place throughout the whole half-hour, neither Clif nor Tom indulged in self-congratulation. Clif had Patch and Gosman to fight for the right end position, and Tom was always aware that Gillespie and Heard were following close behind, awaiting their turns. Mr. Babcock made them work hard, but they had plenty of enthusiasm and liked working. Now and then a word, or perhaps a brief halt while the coach stared silently toward the First Team players, kept the incentive in mind. They were there to mold themselves into a first-class fighting unit so that they might meet the friendly enemy on fairly even terms, and so serve as the whetstone against which the latter was to be shaped and edged into a conquering weapon. But――and they dwelt relishingly on this――if the whetstone sometimes proved too hard for the steel, why, so much the better for every one! In other words, duty demanded that they prove themselves a worthy foe, and inclination kept a full jump ahead of duty! There were no personal grudges being nursed: no player on the Scrub had a bone to pick with any member of the other team; but there was, nevertheless, the conviction, shared by all, that the wisdom of the Head Coach’s selections had yet to be proved, and it was up to them to show that proof didn’t exist! In such a spirit, then, the Wyndham Scrub Team――or “Mr. Babcock’s Team,” as the _Lantern_ called it――started forth.