Neil returned to practise that afternoon, his right shoulder protected
by a wonderful leather contrivance which was the cause of much
good-natured fun. He didn't get near the line-up, however, but was
allowed to take part in signal practise, and was then set to kicking
goals from placement. If the reader will button his right arm inside his
coat and try to kick a ball with accuracy he will gain some slight idea
of the difficulty which embarrassed Neil. When work was over he felt as
though he had been trying, he declared, to kick left-handed. But he met
with enough success to demonstrate that, given opportunity for practise,
one may eventually learn to kick goals minus anything except feet.

That happened to be one of Paul's "off days," and the way he played
exasperated the coaches and alarmed him. He could not hide from himself
the evident fact that Gillam was outplaying him five days a week. With
the return of Neil, Paul expected to be ousted from the position of left
half, and the question that worried him was whether he would in turn
displace Gillam or be sent back to the second eleven. He was safe,
however, for several days more, for Simson still laughed at Neil's
demand to be put into the line-up, and he was determined that before the
Yale game he would prove himself superior to Gillam.

The following morning, Friday, Mills was seated at the desk in his room
making out a list of players who were to participate in the Robinson
game. According to the agreement between the rival colleges such lists
were required to be exchanged not later than two weeks prior to the
contest. The players had been decided upon the evening before by all the
coaches in assembly, and his task this morning was merely to recopy the
list before him. He had almost completed the work when he heard strange
sounds outside his door. Then followed a knock, and, in obedience to his