His feat of the previous day had already secured to him a reputation
throughout the school, and as the little groups of boys passed him he
heard himself alluded to as "the country fellow that punted fifty yards
yesterday," or "the chap that made that kick." And when the three long,
steep flights of Masters confronted him he took them two steps at a
time, and arrived before the door of Number 34 breathless, but as happy
as a schoolboy can be.
CHAPTER IV.
THE HEAD COACH.
"Upper Middle Class: Members will meet at the gym at 2.15, to march to
depot and meet Mr. Remsen."
"Louis WHIPPLE, _Pres't_."
This was the notice pasted on the board in Academy Building the morning
of Joel's fifth day at school. Beside it were similar announcements to
members of the other classes. As he stood in front of the board Joel
felt a hand laid on his shoulder, and turned to find Outfield West
by his side.
"Are you going along?" asked that youth.
"I don't believe so," answered Joel. "I have a Latin recitation at two."
"Well, chuck it! Everybody is going--and the band, worse luck!"
"Is there a band?" West threw up his hands in mock despair.
"Is there a _band? Is_ there a band! Mr. March, your ignorance surprises
and pains me. It is quite evident that you have never heard the Hillton
Academy Band; no one who has ever heard it forgets. Yes, my boy, there
_is_ a band, and it plays Washington Post, and Hail Columbia, and
Hilltonians; and then it plays them all over again.
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