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"I don't know what class he is," said Tom, "but his name's Deane. I heard a chap call him that this morning. Get your togs and wait for me down front. I won't be more than a minute."

They obtained adjoining lockers in the gymnasium and changed into football attire. Then, since they were early for practice, they snooped around the building, upstairs and down. The gymnasium was new and well appointed. The floor was large enough for two basketball games to be played at once, there was a good running track above, and, occupying the second story of the wing, a rowing room and two other apartments variously used for fencing, boxing, wrestling and possibly other sports. Underneath was a large baseball cage and a dressing room for visiting teams. The basement, which was half above ground and well lighted, held the lockers, a swimming pool, shower baths and the trainer's quarters. On the main floor, near the front entrance, Mr. Babcock had his office.

There were numerous trophies to be viewed and a wealth of pictures hung about the halls and rooms, most of the latter group photographs of teams and crews of former years. Here and there, however, was to be seen a picture of a football game or a view of a crew race. "'1919—Wyndham 16—Wolcott 0,'" read Tom. "Huh! '1917—Wyndham by Seven Lengths.' Say, it's a funny thing you can't find any photographs where we were licked!"

"Well," laughed Clif, "here's a football game we only tied. 'Wyndham 7—Wolcott 7,' it says."