“I can testify,” said Joel gravely, “that Out is a case in point.  He plays golf, and has time left to study—­how to play more golf.”

“Well, anyhow, you know I do study some lately, Joel,” laughed West.  Joel nodded with serious mien.

“I think you’ve made a very excellent point in favor of golf, West,” said Digbee.  “It hasn’t been made a business, at least in this school.  But won’t it eventually become quite as much of a pursuit as football now is?”

“Oh, it may become as popular, but, don’t you see, it will never become as—­er—­exacting on the fellows that play it.  You can play golf without having to go into training for it.”

“Nevertheless, West,” replied the head coach, “if a fellow can play golf without being in training, doesn’t it stand to reason that the same fellow can play a better game if he is in training?  That is, won’t he play a better game if he is in better trim?”

“Yes, I guess so, but he will play a first-class game if he doesn’t train.”

“But not as good a game as he will if he does train?”

“I suppose not,” admitted West.

“Well, now, a fellow can play a very good game of football if he isn’t in training,” continued Remsen, “but that same fellow, if he goes to bed and gets up at regular hours, and eats decent food at decent times, and takes care of himself in such a way as to improve his mental, moral, and physical person, will play a still better game and derive more benefit from it.  When golf gets a firmer hold on this side of the Atlantic, schools and colleges will have their golf teams of, say, from two to a dozen players.  Of course, the team will not play as a team, but the members of it will play singly or in couples against representatives of other schools.  And when that happens it is sure to follow that the players will go into almost as strict training as the football men do now.”

“Well, that sounds funny,” exclaimed West.

“Digbee thinks one of the most objectionable features of football is the fact that the players go into it so thoroughly—­that they train for it, and study it, and spend a good deal of valuable time thinking about it.  But to me that is one of its most admirable features.  When a boy or a man goes in for athletics, whether football or rowing or hockey, he desires, if he is a real flesh-and-blood being, to excel in it.  To do that it is necessary that he put himself in the condition that will allow of his doing his very best.  And to that end he trains.  He gives up pastry, and takes to cereals; he abandons his cigarettes and takes to fresh air; he gives up late hours at night, and substitutes early hours in the morning.  And he is better for doing so.  He feels better, looks better, works better, plays better.”

“But,” responded Digbee, “can a boy who has come to school to study, and who has to study to make his schooling pay for itself, can such a boy afford the time that all that training and practicing requires?”