declaimed Cooke.

"That's something you'll never have a chance of doing, Tom," answered
Cartwright, as Joel was hauled on to the truck. "You'll never get near
enough to a study to have to be torn away."

"Study, my respected young friend," answered Cooke gravely, "is the
bane of the present unenlightened age. In the good old days when
everybody was either a Greek or a Roman or a barbarian, and so didn't
have to study languages, and--"

"Shut up! here's the train," cried West. "Now every fellow cheer, or
he'll have me to fight."

"Hooray! hooray! hooray!" yelled Cooke.

"Somebody punch him, please," begged West, and Somers and another
obliging youth thrust the offender off the truck and sat on his head.
The train slowed down, stopped, and a porter appeared laden with a huge
valise. This was the signal for a rush, and the darkey was instantly
relieved of his burden and hustled back grinning to the platform.

Then Joel caught sight of a gentleman in a neat suit of gray tweed
descending the steps, and saw the pupils heave and push their ways
toward him; and for a sight the arrival was hidden from view. Then the
cheers for "Coach!" burst enthusiastically forth, the train was speeding
from sight up the track, the band was playing Hilltonians, and the
procession took up its march back to the Academy.

When he at last caught a fair sight of Stephen Remsen, Joel saw a man of
about twenty-eight years, gayly trudging at the head of the line, his
handsome face smiling brightly as he replied to the questions and
sallies of the more elderly youths who surrounded him. Joel's heart went
out to Stephen Remsen at once. And neither then nor at any future time
did he wonder at it.

"That," thought Joel, "is the kind of fellow I'd like for a big brother.
Although I never _could_ grow big enough to lick him."

CHAPTER V.

A RAINY AFTERNOON.

The following day Joel arrived on the football field to discover the
head coach in full charge. He was talking earnestly to Wesley Blair. His
dress was less immaculate than upon the preceding afternoon, although
not a whit less attractive to Joel. A pair of faded and much-darned
red-and-black striped stockings were surmounted by a pair of soiled and
patched moleskin trousers. His crimson jersey had faded at the shoulders
to a pathetic shade of pink, and one sleeve was missing, having long
since "gone over to the enemy." In contrast to these articles of apparel
was his new immacula