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 didn't stop lavishing praise on Clif all the evening, and he was ably abetted by Loring. Tom was inclined to lose track of the fact that the First Team was in all ways a superior organization and to lay every detail to the Scrub's shortcomings rather than to the adversary's fuller knowledge and better playing. It was hard to make him see why the Scrub didn't have an even chance at every game. Tom was making a very good captain, although, as frequently happens, being captain had slowed up his progress as a player. Not that Tom wasn't still holding down the left halfback position in good shape, for he was. He was a more certain gainer through the line than Lou Stiles, was a better punter than any one on the First except "Big Bill" Fargo and could get a forward-pass off in fine style. It was just that his anxiety to have the Scrub a great team caused him to give more thought to its development than to the individual duties of Tom Kemble, with the result that Tom's progress was not quite keeping up with that of the others. Tom was far from realizing this, although Mr. Babcock, who played no favorites, was after Tom a good deal during practice. Doubtless if Tom hadn't had so many things on his mind it would have dawned on him that his playing wasn't meeting with "Cocky's" entire approval.

Clif encountered Wattles in the corridor on his way back from supper that Wednesday evening. Wattles was carrying Loring's tray to the dining room. Clif said, "Hello, Wattles," and would have passed, but Wattles would have speech with him. "Mister Bing