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Nor did his courage fail him until he had turned in through the gate. A young man, whistling blithely, came in behind him. It was Dick Prescott, erect of carriage, and brisk and strong of stride, as becomes a young athlete whose conscience is clear and wholesome. "Hullo, Prescott, what are you doing around here to-night?" hailed Drayne. But Dick seemed not to have heard.
"Then we'll make that fine old American gentleman feel all right again by the grand game that we'll put up," promised Dick vehemently. "I'll pass the word, and the fellows will strain themselves to the last drop." Orders were issued to the gate tenders to throw Drayne out if he presented himself at the gate.
"It's the toughest luck that ever happened," grumbled Hazelton, right guard, to Holmes, right tackle. "And I don't believe Drayne is in anything like condition, either." "Now, see here, you two," broke in Captain Wadleigh behind them, as he gripped an arm of either boy, "no croaking. We can't afford it." "We can't afford anything," grinned Hazelton uneasily.
"Worth whose while?" demanded Heathcote Drayne, suspiciously. "Yours. Has your son come here to compete for either the West Point or Annapolis cadetship?" "What if he has?" "Then has Phin his certificates of good character with him?" demanded Tom, his blue eyes steely and cold as he looked straight and significantly at the elder Drayne. "Confound your impudence, Reade! What do you mean?"
If you want to prefer a charge, Mr. Drayne, I'll blow my police whistle and bring the officer here." Spencer took a whistle from his pocket, moving it toward his lips. "Do you want the officer!" challenged the reporter. But Mr. Drayne began to see the matter in a somewhat different light. He knew much about the nature of his son, and here were two witnesses against him.
Phin realized, though he dared not look about him any longer, that the hissing came as much from the girls as from the boys. Drayne did not attempt to bend over his desk. Instead, he marched swiftly down the half of the aisle, then past the platform toward the door. "Mr. Drayne," called Dr. Thornton, "you have not taken your books, or paper or other desk materials."
Under a magnifying glass these collected papers all exhibited one fact that the letters and the copies of the signal code had been struck off on a machine having the same peculiarities as to worn faces of certain types. It was thus rather clearly established that Phin Drayne must have used the typewriting machine that stood in his father's office. Drayne was not at school on Friday.
Morton, will you allow me to play regular quarter-back this season?" begged the quitter of the year before. "I would give the idea more thought if Prescott recommended it; but I doubt if he would," answered Mr. Morton slowly. "Personally, Drayne, I don't approve of putting you on strong this year. The quitter's reputation Drayne, is one that can't ever be really lived down, you know."
There was in olden times a chap who had a famous knack for getting square with people who used him the wrong way. I wish I could remember his name at this moment." Drayne couldn't recall the name at the time, but another name that might have served Drayne to remember at this instant was Benedict Arnold. A Hint from the Girls
At any time Drayne would have a very good chance of coming out even with, or just ahead of, either Dick or Dave. The Draynes did not favor our three chums with any greeting, but walked on down into the hall. "Excuse me a minute," murmured Tom. "I want to find out how the land lies." Tom thereupon walked boldly over to the Draynes. "May I speak with you just a moment, Mr. Drayne?" asked Tom.
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