ith us in the old 'Varsity days. I was doubtful as to the
wisdom of this, and was persuaded only by Graeme's eager assent to my
proposal.

'Certainly, let's have them,' he said; 'I shall be awfully glad to see
them; great stuff they were.'

'But, I don't know, Graeme; you see--well--hang it!--you know--you're
different, you know.'

He looked at me curiously.

'I hope I can still stand a good supper, and if the boys can't stand me,
why, I can't help it. I'll do anything but roar, and don't you begin to
work off your menagerie act--now, you hear me!'

'Well, it is rather hard lines that when I have been talking up my lion
for a year, and then finally secure him, that he will not roar.'

'Serve you right,' he replied, quite heartlessly; 'but I'll tell you
what I'll do, I'll feed! Don't you worry,' he adds soothingly; 'the
supper will go.'

And go it did. The supper was of the best; the wines first-class. I had
asked Graeme about the wines.

'Do as you like, old man,' was his answer; 'it's your supper, but,' he
added, 'are the men all straight?'

I ran them over in my mind.

'Yes; I think so.'

If not, don't you help them down; and anyway, you can't be too careful.
But don't mind me; I am quit of the whole business from this out.' So I
ventured wines, for the last time, as it happened.

We were a quaint combination. Old 'Beetles,' whose nickname was
prophetic of his future fame as a bugman, as the fellows irreverently
said; 'Stumpy' Smith, a demon bowler; Polly Lindsay, slow as ever and as
sure as when he held the half-back line with Graeme, and used to make my
heart stand still with terror at his cool deliberation. But he was
never known to fumble nor to funk, and somehow he always got us out safe
enough. Then there was Rattray--'Rat' for short--who, from a swell, had
developed into a cynic with a sneer, awfully clever and a good enough
fellow at heart. Little 'Wig' Martin, the sharpest quarter ever seen,
and big Barney Lundy, centre scrimmage, whose terrific roar and rush had
often struck terror to the enemy's heart, and who was Graeme's slave.
Such was the party.

As the supper went on my fears began to vanish, for if Graeme did not
'roar,' he did the next best thing--ate and talked quite up to his
old form. Now we played our matches over again, bitterly lamenting the
'if's' that had lost us the championships, and wildly approving the
tackles that had saved, and the runs that had made the 'Varsity crowd