Paul was deeply insulted by this plain speaking, and very promptly took
himself off up-stairs to Cowan's room. Of late he spent a good deal of
his time there and Neil was getting worried. For Cowan was notably an
idler, and the wonder was how he managed to keep himself in college even
though he was taking but a partial course. To be sure, Cowan's fate
didn't bother Neil a bit, but he was greatly afraid that his example
would be followed by his roommate, who, at the best, was none too fond
of study. Neil sat long that evening over an unopened book, striving to
think of some method of weakening Cowan's hold on Paul--a hold that was
daily growing stronger and which threatened to work ill to the latter.
In the end Neil sighed, tossed down the volume, and made ready for bed
without having found a solution of the problem.

The following Monday Neil was rewarded for his good showing in the
Woodby game by being taken on to the varsity. Paul remained on the
second team, and Cowan, greatly to that gentleman's bewilderment and
wrath, joined him there. The two teams, with their substitutes, went to
training-table that day in Pearson's boarding-house on Elm Street, and
preparation for the game with Harvard, now but nine days distant, began
in earnest.



CHAPTER XI

THE RESULT OF A FUMBLE

Sydney Burr had trundled himself out to the field and had drawn his
tricycle close up to the low wooden fence that divides the gridiron from
the grand stand and against which the players on the benches lean their