But life wasn’t all football, nor all play, nor all thrilling rescues from danger. They believed in hard work at Maple Hill, and shirking study was a thing severely frowned upon. Since the system followed showed at the end of each week the class standing of every student, it wasn’t possible to get very far in arrears with lessons. More than one football aspirant was forced to retire from practice, temporarily at least, during the season. Rodney was not one of these, however, for in spite of the demands made on his time by gridiron work he managed to keep well up with his studies. But it meant bending over his books lots of times when the other Vests were at play, and it wasn’t long before the word went around that Ginger Merrill’s brother was a good deal more of a noser than a football player.[234] Not, though, that the school in general thought less of him for that reason, for Maple Hill fellows held studiousness in respect and honored the student who stood high in class. But I think they were a little bit disappointed, nevertheless. Perhaps they reasoned that there were plenty of fellows to maintain the school’s prestige for brains, while Ginger Merrills were few and far between.  
But Rodney got on. He made new friends day by day and when, toward the last of October, a boy named White, who had been elected secretary and treasurer of the entering class, was forced to leave school because of illness, Rodney was the unanimous choice of his classmates for the vacant office. As the position was largely honorary and entailed very little labor, Rodney accepted. More than one boy told him that had it been known prior to the class election that he was Ginger Merrill’s brother he would have been made president. Whereupon Rodney smilingly declared that in that case he was glad it hadn’t been known. And meant it, too.
 
October sped quickly. Maple Hill met rival[235] after rival on succeeding Saturday afternoons, marked up three victories and one defeat, and fixed her gaze on the final contest of the season, the game with Bursley, now only a matter of three weeks away. Rodney found time to play a little tennis, sometimes with Tad alone on the school courts and sometimes with the twins, joined in several diversions of the Vests, and so did not want for recreation. For, to be quite truthful, being a member of the football team, even if only a substitute on the second, is not by any means all recreation. There’s pleasure in it, but the hard work outweighs the fun. There were discouraging moments when even Rodney almost wished he were out of it. Almost, but never, I think, quite. At such times it was Matty who bolstered his failing hopes and supplied encouragement. Both the twins were determined that Rodney should win glory on the gridiron, and enjoyed in anticipation the prestige to be theirs when, having snatched his team from defeat by some brilliant run through a tangled field or some mighty plunge through a close defense—you see the twins read their football stories—they might proudly lay claim[236] to his friendship. The twins were properly romantic, in spite of a big leaven of practicality, and hero worshippers of the most enthusiastic sort.
 
Meanwhile Rodney tried very hard. There was no one on either team more willing to learn, more anxious to listen to instruction and profit by it. And there was no one who seemed to fail as sadly. Cotting still had hopes of him, and gave him plenty of opportunities to show that he had the making of a football player. Sometimes Rodney did things that almost justified the coach’s belief in him. More often, however, he stopped just short of fulfillment.
 
“If he’d only think for himself!” grumbled Mr. Cotting.
 
“If he’d only fight!” responded Terry Doyle.
 
“It isn’t that. He can fight. But he doesn’t seem to know when it’s time to.” Cotting shook his head for the twentieth time over Rodney’s shortcomings, and then, as always, added leniently, “Well, we’ll give him a little more time. He may find himself yet.”
 
But if Rodney had his times of discouragement, not so Phineas Kittson. Kitty went serenely[237] ahead, overcoming all obstacles in much the same way as a strong-headed bull might walk through a fence by the simple expedient of putting his head down and not thinking of splinters. Kitty put his head down and kept going. In the middle of the month he ousted Farnham from his place at left guard on the second, and the school, which had begun by laughing, now regarded him with awed delight. He made a good guard. His weight, and there was lots of it, was set low, and an opponent could no more put Kitty off his feet than he could upset one of the pyramids. And Kitty developed what Cotting had called football sense. He played his own position nicely, was as firm as a rock on defense and as relentless as a freight engine ............