That was on Wednesday. Thursday passed without a scrimmage since Dick was not satisfied with the tackling and handling of the ball. Several of the Varsity had been showing the weakest sort of work at tackling and fumbles had been far too frequent. And so on Thursday there was a hard drill at the dummy and a lot of work in essentials. Cable took the linemen off to a corner of the field and gave them a long session in blocking and breaking through, and Morris kept his pupils busy in front of a goal. It must be confessed that Morris was not a huge success as an instructor. He knew how to kick goals from placement and from drops, and he was a good punter, but when it came to imparting his knowledge to George Tupper and Nelson Beaton, he was far less skillful. The explanation was that he didn’t really know how he obtained his results, and if one doesn’t know how he does a thing, it’s well-nigh impossible to teach another! Morris took infinite trouble, for he was fully as enthusiastic as Dick about developing the kickers, and he worked as hard as he knew how, but his method of correcting a pupil was to say, “No, you don’t get it, George. Now watch me. See? One hand on each side――get your lacings right――sight your goal――drop it――swing―― There you are! See what I mean?” And Tupper or Beaton would assent doubtfully and, perhaps, do no better the next time. Still, George Tupper had made progress; that couldn’t be denied; and Dick hoped for the best and silently wished he knew more about the gentle art of drop- and placement-kicking himself. On Friday the team showed some improvement as a result of the previous day’s practice, and in the short and not very hard scrimmage with the Scrubs managed to get by without fumbling. But a spell of unseasonably warm weather had had its effect on the players of both teams and there were distinct signs of sluggishness visible. Dick read the signs and called an early halt. He had been expecting a slump for several days and now, he told himself, it had arrived. He was relieved rather than troubled, however, for if there must be a slump――and there usually is at some time during a football season――it was better to have it now than two weeks, or even a week later. He hoped for a change of weather on the morrow, but scarcely dared expect it. And it didn’t come. If anything, Saturday was warmer and more enervating than Friday had been, and many of the seventeen players whom Dick took to Corwin at noon looked dragged and tired. Not a few more were plainly irritable, always a bad sign, and Dick secretly feared that Lanny was not destined to be much pleased with the outcome of the afternoon’s game.