knowing how and then it's just as easy as catching a football. It looks hard only to those who have not learned. Let me show you." And Bob demonstrated to Judd the correct way to tackle.

"I'll not run hard the first few times," said Bob, considerately, "Just try it out."

Judd was trembling. His knees seemed weak. He was trying to tell himself that he was not afraid. He knew that what his brother had told him was so but he dreaded physical contact. Bob did not give him much time for reflection. He was coming at him again!

Judd did not wish to appear a coward in the eyes of Bob. He was almost as afraid not to tackle as he was to tackle. While he was trying to make up his mind Bob was upon him and Judd made a wild clutching dive forward. His arms closed about Bob's legs at a point midway between the hips and the knees, there was a jolting impact and the ground seemed to rise to hit him. Judd sat up to take stock of his injuries. He found, to his pleased surprise, that he was unhurt.

"Bully work!" complimented Bob, warmly, "Your first tackle was a peach!"

Judd felt his courage and self-confidence rise like the mercury in a thermometer. He was finding out that many of his old fears had been groundless. Bob ran straight at Judd a dozen times and each time Judd brought him to the ground.

"All right, Buddy. Now I'm going to get by you. I'm not going to use the straight arm. I'll show you about that later. But I'm coming at you like an express train. Try to stop me if you can!"

There was a challenge in Bob's words. Judd sensed his first big thrill of competition. Bob said he was coming through. Well, he was going to stop him!

Bob ran at Judd viciously and with all the speed at his command. Judd came forward to meet him. He saw two clock-like legs and a body bent close to the ground. He dove low in order to reach him. Then it seemed as if a dozen knees struck him thudding blows in the face. He felt himself being dragged along the ground. His hold on the one foot loosened. He hit the ground heavily and was dimly conscious of feet pounding the earth. Bob had gone through!

It was such experiences as this that sickened Judd. All the pleasure of football was gone for him now. He had a bump over one eye and a patch of skin off his chin. There was no answering spirit of fight. Judd lay where he had fallen.

Bob waited, hoping that Judd would show the spunk to get up. He had subjected his younger brother to rough treatment but he had done it for a purpose.

"I'm sorry, Buddy. You tackled too low … and you didn't hang on tight enough after you grabbed me. You see, I kept on going and I got away from you."

Judd raised up, dazedly. He was not interested in why he had failed to stop Bob. He was concerned over the bumping he had received.

"Am I—am I hurt very bad?" he asked, tremulously.

Bob laughed. "Not bad enough to mention," he said, "You'll stop me next time, eh Buddy?"

Judd shook his head.

"No … there's not gonna be any next time, I—I'm through."

Bob knew better than to argue with him when he felt this way. He picked up the football and walked off the field. Judd gladly followed.

Several days later, when Bob returned from work, he noticed that Judd was red-eyed. On the table lay some newspaper clippings. They were want ads.

"Well, what did you do today?" asked Bob, casually.

"I—I was out looking for work."

Bob whistled. "Well! Did you find anything?"

"No."

"Oh, I see—you answered these ads here—may I look them over?"

Judd nodded his consent.

"H-h-hm! Maxwell's! That's a good place. 'Clerk wanted. Young man preferred. No experience necessary. Good opportunity for advancement.' What did they say when you applied?"

Judd was silent. Bob waited an appreciable moment for him to reply.
"Did some other fellow beat you to the place?"

Judd found his voice. "N-no—but—but they wanted a young man who had at least a high-school education."

Bob had a wave of sympathy for his younger brother. "But here's another good place, Buddy. Jackson and Ballard's! You've picked some good ones. 'Filing clerk wanted. We teach you our system. Young man with ambition to get ahead in our line of work desired.' How about this?"

Judd hesitated. "They seemed interested. Then they asked me how much education I'd had. They said they wanted some one that they could send right on up as soon as he got to know the business. They said it was their experience that fellows with high school educations were better fitted for the work…."

Bob was glad that Judd had had this experience. He knew that there were plenty of places that Judd could get work but the better institutions where opportunities for real advancement were greatest almost demanded that a young man's qualifications include a reasonable amount of education.

"Well … buck up, Buddy. There's always a way out and you're young yet!"

Tears came anew to Judd's eyes. He turned away from Bob, ashamed.

"Why—Buddy—what's the matter?"

"I—I didn't know I could feel this way."

"How do you feel?"

"I—I dunno. I guess I'm homesick."

Bob's eyes blurred. He himself had scarcely been back to Trumbull for three years.

"Well, you'll soon be back, Buddy … with mother. Summer vacation is about over. I expect she's missed you a lot too. She's tried to do the very best she knew how for you…. Perhaps I can come up later and … and see you play football."

Judd started. Bob almost regretted that he had taken the liberty to make this suggestion. He had tried to do it casually as if playing football would be the natural thing for Judd to do. And he had not mentioned school although to play football would imply attending school. Judd looked at Bob sharply. His emotions were conflicting. He would like to do so many things if…

"But mother wouldn't hear to my playin'," objected Judd at last. This seemed the most logical excuse he could think of. "Anyhow, I am not goin' back to school." This came as an after thought.

"Well … I'm glad you are going back to Trumbull any way," replied Bob, "I think you will be able to take better care of yourself." There were lots of things he would like to have said to Judd but Bob somehow did not feel that it would be wise. Judd must be allowed to think things out for himself.

When the morning arrived for Judd's departure, Bob who had to go on to work, bade his younger brother good-bye at the apartment.

"I'm leaving you a contract, Buddy, and a little note. As soon as I've gone I want you to read them. If, after thinking it over, you are willing to sign the contract, leave the duplicate for me on the table. I want you to know that whatever you do I'm for you. You're going to make good as soon as you forget yourself. You'll understand what I mean some day. Good-bye. Tell mother I'll get up to see her this fall sure. Good luck!"

Judd sat wonderingly, holding the folded slips of paper that Bob had placed in his hand. What did Bob mean by the word "Contract?" Why should his brother leave him a note? Why couldn't he tell him what he wanted to without putting it on paper? This was a funny way of doing things!

He opened the note and read: "Dear Buddy—It's easier to tell you