"I don't believe Gale will get into the Robinson game," thought Sydney
as he took himself toward the side-line. "He seems a good player,
but--but you never can tell what he's going to do; half the time he just
sort of slops around and looks as though he was doing a favor by
playing. I can't see why Neil likes him so well; I suppose it's because
he's so different. Maybe he's a better sort when you know him
real well."

After practise was ended and the riotous half-hour in the locker-house
was over, Neil found himself walking back to the campus with Sydney and
Paul. Paul entertained a half-contemptuous liking for Sydney. To Neil he
called him "the crip," but when in Sydney's presence was careful never
to say anything to wound the boy's feelings--an act of consideration
rather remarkable for Paul, who, while really kind at heart, was
oftentimes careless about the sensibilities of others. This afternoon
Paul was evidently downcast, too downcast to be even cross.

"Well, I guess it's all up with me," he said as they passed through the
gate and started down Williams Street toward college. "I'm glad you're
back, chum, but I can see my finish."

"Nonsense," said Neil, "you'll be back to-morrow. Gillam is putting up a
star game, and that's a fact; but your weight will help you, and if you
buckle down for the next few days you'll make it all right."

But Paul refused to be comforted and remained silent and gloomy all the
way home. Knowing how Paul had set his heart upon making the varsity for
the Robinson game, Neil began to be rather worried himself. He felt,
unnecessarily of course, in a measure responsible for the crowning of
his friend's ambition. When he had prevailed on Paul to relinquish the