Life wasn’t all football, however. There was a lot of studying to attend to. Kendall was taking five courses, in preparation for that college he might never reach: Latin, Greek, mathematics, English and German. These made up a total of twenty-two hours a week. French, physics and chemistry he was leaving to his senior year. Luckily Kendall had the valuable gift of application, and application might also be called the royal road to results. Certainly an ounce of it is better than a pound of labor. Kendall was doing well in all his courses. He was fond of languages and learned easily, German, however, presenting a rather more difficult road than Greek or Latin. It was in mathematics that he had to work hardest. There are some who never manage to get themselves in sympathy with that science, and Kendall was one of these. Geometry was his bugbear that year. But, with the scholarship beckoning, he worked as hard as he knew how and usually secured creditable marks. Although he had only three hours of English, that course required a good deal of outside reading; just now they were digging at Milton, with Shakespeare looming ahead; and there were weekly compositions to be written, and, of course, one never quite got away from rhetoric. So Kendall had his hands full, and there were times when it seemed to him that it would be the part of wisdom to give up football and devote all his thought and time to digging for that scholarship. He didn’t, however, although he became panicky pretty often and assured himself discouragedly that he hadn’t the ghost of a show of winning even a Sidney. The panicky moments became more frequent as the Broadwood game drew near and as football made greater and greater demands on his time and thought. (But when the awards were made at the end of the term Kendall found that his fears had been groundless, for he won the Gordon Scholarship after all. And the pleasure he experienced in writing the news to his father more than made up for all the labor he had gone through.)