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Just before supper, when Arnold came back to Number 12, a trifle washed-out looking and not moving very spryly, Toby narrated the outcome of the incident in the train. By this time he was able to tell of the meeting with George W. Tubb with a touch of humor and Arnold listened amusedly, stretched at length on the window-seat.

“You’re right, Toby, the Navy’s just the place for friend Tubbs.”

“Tubb,” corrected Toby. “There’s only one of him, praise be!”

“We’re getting some strange freaks here of late, anyway,” reflected Arnold. “There were several on the field this afternoon. Well, it takes all sorts to make a world—or a football team! Say, T. Tucker, the new coach is a peach. Fan’s crazy about him, and so are the others. Did you hear the song-and-dance he gave us before practice? Some sane and sensible little speech, that was.”

“What did he say?” asked Toby.

“We-ell,” Arnold hesitated, “I don’t know that he said anything much different from what all coaches say at the start of the season. It was more the way he said it, I guess. Of course he insisted rather painfully on hard work, and told us what a fine, intelligent-looking lot we were.”