white hair, a powerful neck, broad shoulders, a vast chest. To a judge of
athletes, he would tip the scales at a hundred and ninety pounds, all solid
muscle, for that superb physique held not an ounce of superfluous flesh.

"Hicks," said Head Coach Patrick Henry Corridan, gazing at the mountain of
muscle, "if size means anything, you have brought old Bannister an entire
football squad! What splendid material to train for the Big Games, why--he
will be irresistible!"






CHAPTER IV

QUOTING SCOOP SAWYER'S LETTER


"I didn't raise my Ford to be a jitney--
To run the streets, and stay out late at night!
Who dares to put a jitney sign, upon it--
And send my peace-ship out for fares to fight?"

T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., standing by his open window at 3 P. M. one
afternoon a week after his sensational return to Bannister College, with
the "Prodigious Prodigy" in tow, indulged in the soul-satisfying pastime of
twanging his banjo, and roaring, in his subterranean voice, a parody on "I
Didn't Raise My Boy to be a Soldier." It was actually the first Caruso-like
outburst of the pestersome youth that year, but his saengerfest brought