o, I don't very often watch practice. I don't care much for football,
I'm afraid. Baseball's my game. No, I wasn't there, but Sid Welch was
telling me about it. Sid's a very communicative kid."

"He's trying to make the team," said Roy, smiling. "He asked me one day
if drinking vinegar would make him thinner."

"He's a funny little chump," laughed the other. "Not a bad sort, either.
He has the bed next to mine, and he and I are pretty good chums. By the
way, you didn't tell me what it was your brother said."

"Oh, why, he said once that if I wanted to get on I must keep a stiff
upper lip and mind my own affairs. And--and he said 'when you're down
on your luck or up against a bigger fellow grin as hard as you can
grin.'"

[Illustration: "'Of course I wasn't christened Chub.'"]

"Good for him!" cried the other. "I'd like to meet him. That's what I
say, too. No use in looking glum because you're put out at the plate.
Just smile and keep your mouth shut, and likely as not you'll make good
the next time. Besides, if the other chap sees you looking worried it
makes him feel bigger and better. Yes, that's good advice, all right. By
the way, I know your name, but I guess you don't know mine; it's Chub
Eaton."

"Are you a Senior?"

"Same as you, Second Senior. Of course, I wasn't christened Chub; my
real name's Tom; but the fellows began calling me Chub the first year I
was here because I was kind of fat then, and I didn't mind. So it stuck.
Well, here's the canoe. Just give me a hand, will you? We'll put her
over the end of the float."

The boat house was deserted, but out in mid-stream was a pair-oar and a
rowboat, the latter well filled. Roy helped in the launching and soon
they were afloat.

"It's an awful handsome canoe, isn't it?" asked Roy.

"Pretty fair. I thought the color would fetch you; it's just a match for
your sweater. Got the paddle? Well, try your hand at it. Just stick it
in and push it back. You'll get the hang after a bit. We'll get out
around the island so as to catch the breeze. I hate calm water."

It was a glorious afternoon. September was drawing to a close and there
was already a taste of October in the fresh breeze that ruffled the
water as soon as they had swung the crimson craft around the lower end
of Fox Island. Toward the latter the owner of the craft waved his
paddle.

"That's where we have fun April recess," he said. "If you know what's
good you'll stay here instead of going home.