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Updated: May 12, 2025
In the earliest and embryonic stage of professional development, any violent impression on the instructor's mind is apt to be followed by some lasting effect on that of the pupil.
Kenneth, swallowed, his anger and Mr. Whipple, with a smiling nod, followed by a quick malevolent glance at Joe, turned away from the group of grinning faces. Chuckles and quiet snickers followed him. There was joy in the ranks of the enemy. Only Kenneth showed no satisfaction over the instructor's discomfiture for he realized that the latter would hold him partly accountable for it.
"He told me he would take the greatest pleasure in trying to build up a winning team for Scranton," Hugh informed them. "Good for Mr. Leonard, he's a dandy!" exclaimed Eli; and that seemed to be the consensus of opinion; though Nick was seen to allow his upper lip to curl a bit at mention of the athletic instructor's name.
If she is she will realize how earnestly we covet for her all the best things and how we long for wisdom to help her get them. Perhaps she will think that she can do a great deal toward getting them for herself, and she can. Let me recall to her mind one of the girls whom we find in almost every gymnasium class, whose pale face and stooping shoulders attract at once the instructor's attention.
"Funny he should trouble his head about us out of school hours at all," Chet said again. His sister made no further comment upon the professor's queer actions. Nevertheless her curiosity was aroused regarding the old instructor's sudden interest in anything beside Latin exercises and Greek roots.
A tall, lank, bespectacled "Westerner," nearly thirty-five years of age, the blue-eyed country boy had dragged himself up from the obscurity of a frontier American farm into the higher life. Uncouth, awkward, and yet resolute and untiring, he had justified his first instructor's prediction: "He has the head of a horse, and will make his mark!"
"What do you suppose he means?" and now the master of the college turned to Abner Sharp. "When we found them in such a sad state they tried to excuse themselves by stating that a strange vapor had made them sick," was the instructor's reply. "But we could not trace any such vapor. I feel sure it is merely an excuse." "You ought to have your head punched!" growled Tom.
At a parade of a company of newly-called-up men the drill instructor's face turned scarlet with rage as he slated a new recruit for his awkwardness. "Now, Rafferty," he roared, "you'll spoil the line with those feet. Draw them back at once, man, and get them in line." Rafferty's dignity was hurt. "Plaze, sargint," he said, "they're not mine; they're Micky Doolan's in the rear rank!"
They listen to lectures and work out the instructions given them at a practice switchboard that is exactly like the service switchboard, except that the wires do not go outside of the building, but connect with the instructor's desk; the instructor calls up the pupils and sends messages in just the same way that the subscribers call "central" in the regular service.
He had been punting too slowly; the other line could surely get through and block his kick, and there were only two minutes to play. Diemann, rigid with anxiety, saw that a Stanford man still lay on the ground. Straining his eyes through the dusk, a glance at the team told him that it was Ashley. The drawn muscles of the instructor's legs trembled, the blood beat in his temples.
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