orders and straightened up to hear his criticism and advice, but he listened sullenly, and Herrick was conscious of the boy's resentment. He exercised his authority as little as possible. He did not go shouting and clamoring round like Frank Windsor, who had a great idea of the inspiriting quality in mere noise, and he did not jump into a scrimmage and begin scolding and denouncing whenever somebody made a bad play.
It pleased him afterward when Harry Harding came up to him and said:—
"You know, Joe, you're a mighty good coach! I believe I could learn something about the game if I could have you always looking after me."
"Thanks!" Herrick answered, and he added, a little sadly, "I guess maybe you're the only one that feels that way."
Nat Belmont certainly was unsympathetic. After the practice, still smarting under the humiliation of being coached by a fellow whom he despised, and indignant over the way in which Frank Windsor was managing
