Blair slammed the door just in front of a whizzing golf ball and clattered downstairs.  Presently he appeared on the walk beneath the window and wiggled his fingers derisively with the thumb against a prominent feature of his face.  But at the first squeak of the window being pushed up he disappeared around the corner.

Joel’s days were now become very busy ones.  Every morning he was awakened at seven, and at eight was required to be on hand at the training table for breakfast.  The quarters were at Old’s, a boarding house opposite the college yard, and here in a big, sunny front room the two long tables were laid with numerous great dishes of oatmeal or hominy, platters of smoking steak, chops or crisp bacon, plates of toast, while potatoes, usually baked, flanked the meat.  The beverage was always milk, and tall pitchers of it were constantly filled and emptied during this as well as the other meals.  And then there were eggs—­eggs hard boiled, eggs soft boiled, eggs medium, eggs poached—­until, at the end of the season, the mere mention of eggs caused Joel’s stomach to writhe in disgust.

During breakfast disabilities were inquired after, men who were known to have nerves were questioned as to their night’s rest, and orders for the day were given out.  This man was instructed to see the doctor, another to interview the trainer, a third to report to the head coach.  The meal over, save for a half hour of practice for the backs behind the gymnasium the men were free to give all their energies to lessons, and so hurried away to recitation hall or room.

At one o’clock the team assembled again for lunch, with books in hand, and at break-neck speed devoured the somewhat elaborate repast, each man rushing in, eating, and rushing out, with no attempt at sociability or heed to the laws of digestion.

Afternoon practice was at four o’clock.  Individual practice was followed by team practice against an imaginary foe, and this in turn gave place to a line-up against the second eleven.  Two stiff twenty-minute halves were played.  Then again individuals were seized on by captain and coaches and put through paces to remedy some fault or other.  And then the last player trots off the field, and the coaches, conversing earnestly among themselves, follow, and the day’s work is done.  There are still the bath and the rub-down and the weighing; but these are gone through with leisurely while the day’s work is discussed and the coaches, circulating among the fellows, inflict an epilogue of criticism and instruction.

There remained usually the better part of an hour before dinner, and this period Joel spent in his room, where with the lamp throwing its glow over his shoulder, he strove to take his mind from the subject of tackling and starting, of punting and passing, and fix it upon his studies for the morrow.

For life was far from being all play that fall—­if hard practice and strict training can be called play!—­and Joel found it necessary to occupy every moment not taken up by eating, sleeping, and practicing on the gridiron with hard study.  It can scarcely be truthfully asserted that Joel’s lessons suffered by reason of his adherence to athletics, though a lecture now and then was slighted that he might use the time in pursuing some study that lack of leisure had necessitated his neglecting.