"Oh, I say," said Jimmy, "this is in the interests of science, you know. We've got to teach Frank football, somehow."
"You can teach him anyhow," said the Codfish, "but you can't make a Roman holiday out of me again. Science is all right, but it can't be allowed to flourish at the expense of my dignity. Look at our poor friend, Lewis Carroll." The sight was so comical that even the Codfish got over his grouch and laughed.
"That's what we get every day," said Jimmy. "I wonder if the School knows how many hard knocks its football players get. You've got to take what's coming to you without a whimper. If a fellow is tender he better keep out of football."
"Or out of the fireplace, eh, Lewis?" cried the Codfish.
"Or from under the window seat," retorted Lewis, who by this time had made himself again presentable by a liberal supply of soap and water.
There was no more football practice that evening; and thereafter when the floor space was cleared away for Jimmy's illustration of the tactics of the back field, the Codfish and Lewis always found it convenient to be absent on important business.
The fall drew on with rapid pace. Sometimes the football eleven of Queen's seemed to be getting together, but it was only seeming; for, lacking the right spirit, the eleven had no fight in it. Captain Wheeler often chafed at the interference of his quarter-back, Chip Dixon, whose bitter feeling toward Frank he could not understand.
Dixon had forgotten Frank's generous attitude the night of the supposed drowning of Tommy Brown in the Gamma initiation, and remembered only that Frank had beaten him out in several of his ambitions. It seemed to be forever in his mind that Frank had beaten Warwick with the Freshman nine, and he lost no opportunity to hurt him in the eyes of the coach and the rest of the players.
But, in spite of his disadvantages and of the scant attention he got on the field, Frank continued to improve. Under the loving coaching of Jimmy at night and much observation and practice on the field, he forged ahead in the knowledge of the game; and once, called in by Horton to replace the full-back when the School eleven held the Second on its five-yard line, he kicked a neat goal from the field.
"Good boy!" said Horton that night, as the teams trudged off to the gymnasium. "You are getting the knack of it. I'd give good money if you were twenty pounds heavier. But you'll grow. Keep at it, and you'll surely get a chance at the eleven next year."