Coach Phillips was deeply touched. Here was loyalty in a deeper sense than he had ever seen it before. If Judd could only be taught the same sense of loyalty toward his college! Judd shifted his feet, restlessly; he was slightly embarrassed. He had planned to quit abruptly if asked to take Cateye's place and the fact that he had confessed to the coach his reason for not wanting the position made Judd a trifle indignant. For at least a full minute neither one spoke.

Coach Phillips dropped his hand from Judd's shoulder.

"All right," he said, "I'll not try to force you. Go back to the seconds. Play left tackle."

"Thank you, sir," replied Judd, brightening up. "If you ever want me to play another position," ... he added, trying to make amends.

"Don't worry, Rube. We're bound to use you before the season's out," reassured Phillips, as he turned away. "Conklin!" calling to another man on the second team, "Get in at left guard on the varsity. Yes, I'm speaking to you! Snappy now!"

The energy that Judd put into his work that afternoon spread joy among the members of the second team and darkened the hopes of the ambitious varsity. Largely through his untiring efforts the second team pushed over a touchdown, starting from mid-field, in exactly seven minutes by the watch. Such a feat heretofore that season had been unheard of!

"Oh you lemons!" some onlooker yelled at the varsity. "Can't you stop Rube?"

It was apparent to all that Judd, almost single-handed, was responsible for the seconds' touchdown. Time and again he had opened great holes in the line through which McCabe and Kinyon loped for big gains.

But the varsity as well as the onlookers were destined to more surprises. With the seconds leading, 7 to 0, the varsity took the kickoff and drove the ball savagely up the field to the seconds' five yard line. But every man on the second team was fighting hard now, spurred on by the excited cries of the half hundred spectators.

"Hold 'em, seconds! They can't score on you! Brace up, Rube! Stop those guys!"

The varsity was determined to push across that touchdown. Benz was angry. It was the first time during the season that the seconds had led in the scoring. The pill was a bitter one to swallow when he realized that it had been Judd who was responsible for the showing. Benz tapped Neil, varsity quarterback, on the arm, and whispered in his ear: "Play everything through the left side of the line. It's weakest. We got to have a touchdown!" Then to himself: "Here's where I show up Rube! Right through left tackle for a touchdown. Three plays to make it in. We'll smash him to bits!"

Neil began calling signals. Benz dashed forward, seized the ball and plunged straight toward left tackle. Judd broke through the line, pushing guard and tackle aside, and dropped Benz for a loss of two yards.

The onlookers howled in glee. Coach Phillips was openly pleased at Judd's showing, "That boy can play!" he told himself, then to the varsity. "You fellows are rotten, ... rotten!" he rasped. "Can't even gain on the scrubs!"

"We'll show you!" challenged Benz, now in a rage. "Just give me that ball again and, ... and interference!"

The second play headed straight for the left side of the line; headed straight for, ... but not through. Judd was again equal to the occasion. He toppled the entire interference and in some miraculous way tackled Benz for another loss.

"No wonder we can't gain!" cried Benz, indignant at this failure, "When Rube is playing off side!"

"I wasn't playin' off side!" denied Judd, quick to resent this charge. "You'd better take that back or, ..."

"Or what?" sneered Benz, stepping up, hotly.

Judd, getting control of himself, turned away.

The spectators laughed but Coach Phillips put a stop to their merriment and censured the two players. "Another word from either of you fellows and I'll send you off the field. Play ball!"

The last try for a touchdown was an end run by Gary, halfback, around left end. Judd spilled the interference and McCabe grabbed the runner. The varsity had lost three yards in three downs against the despised seconds!

McCabe drew Judd back of the line for a punt and Judd booted the ball far down the field out of danger. When scrimmage ended it found the ball in mid-field and the score still, 7 to 0, in favor of the scrubs.

The onlookers gathered in a bunch. "Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Dubs, dubs, dubs!"

It wasn't very often they got such an opportunity to rub it in to the varsity.

Most of the first team members left the field downcast and dejected. It was indeed a disgrace to be walloped by the scrubs with the season almost over. If Pennington should hear of this they would take the Bartlett eleven less seriously.

"What d'you say we celebrate our victory?" suggested McCabe, who had played quarterback for three years on the second and considered this one of the moments in his football career.

"Good idee!" supported Randolph, fullback.

"Where'll we hold the celebration?" asked Parsins, center.

"Down by the bend in the river, to-night, eight o'clock sharp!" instructed McCabe, "Everyone be there?"

"Yea!"

"How about you, Rube?"

"I reckon I can be there," Judd responded.

"Say, ... bring your mouth organ with you, will you?" requested McCabe, suddenly. "We want some music."

"Well, ... maybe."

"All right! Good!" said McCabe, taking it for granted. "Eight o'clock then, fellows. By the way, don't tell a soul. It's just us despised seconds that are in on this celebration, you know."

* * * * *

"If you won't tell me where you are going, Judd, please, ... how late will you be out?" It was Cateye questioning. Judd generally told where he was going when he went out but to-night he was tight as a clam.

"Can't say," replied Judd, grinning, "Don't know, rather," he added when he saw Cateye's puzzled look.

"Judd," reprimanded Cateye, "I feel like I was some sort of guardian over you. Remember, Benz hasn't gotten even with you yet and every move you make just heaps so many more coals on the fire!"

"I reckon I can take care of myself," drawled Judd, doubling up two rock-like fists. "Good-bye!"



CHAPTER XIII

AN IMPRACTICAL JOKE

Pretty Falls river was a good quarter of a mile from Bartlett College. It was wide and deep and swift! Unhappily for lovers of canoe riding the river possessed too many little falls or jagged, protruding rocks, to make this sport safe. However, there were certain swimming holes which were popular in the late spring and summer weather.

On this particular moonlight night, although the air was chilly, every member of the Bartlett second team gathered for a celebration near the bank of the Pretty Falls. The first arrivals had built a huge bonfire and the entire squad crowded around it. Speeches and music of all sorts seemed to be the main program of the evening.

While the seconds were, as they thought, secretly enjoying themselves, Benz was busy about the campus plotting their destruction. In some mysterious way the news of the would-be celebration had leaked out. It was easy to get some fifty students to co-operate with him in the scheme. In fact, most of the first team were so enthusiastic over the idea that they led the army on the march to attack the unsuspecting scrubs.

McCabe was last speaker and he was discoursing highly upon the merits of the second team, the honors that it had won, et cetera.

"Gentlemen," said McCabe, "To-day has marked a great day in the history of the second football team. Well may we say with Caesar, 'I came; I saw; I conquered.' We sent the enemy home with drooping heads, flushing with shame! Their retreat to the locker room was the saddest sight I ever hope to witness. The tears shed by the vanquished would have kept Noah's ark afloat for thirty years. It is with sincere regret that I order the camp fire to be smothered; the arms to be stacked; and the last bugle call to be sounded. We are out of provisions. We must retreat, ... hey! Beat it, fellows! We are discovered!"

With wild whoops and yells the foe, half a hundred strong, charged down upon the unprepared enemy. McCabe didn't stop to review his troops or present a battle front. He fled like Antony from the clutch of Caesar. Judd was slow in getting under way but gave a good account of himself until overpowered by sheer force of numbers.

"Tie those legs!" cried one of the enemy, holding his stomach, "He kicks worse than a mule!"

Benz threw a noose over Judd's feet and drew it tight, until he quieted down.

"This is a new game to me," Judd grinned, "But I reckon it's all right."

The enemy laughed. Outposts came up dragging other prisoners. McCabe had almost gotten away but was captured on a fierce tackle by Bartz, who played left end on the varsity.

"What shall we do with 'em, sir?" asked Bartz, turning and saluting Benz, respectfully.

"How many have you captured?"

"Six, sir, not counting Rube and McCabe."

"Good! Make them run the gauntlet and release them!"

"And what shall we do with the other two?"

"Hold them until further orders!"

"Very well, sir."

The other six were forced to run the gauntlet, very unwillingly indeed, for it consisted in crawling upon hands and knees between some thirty pairs of legs, and to receive, upon passing between each pair, a tremendous whack from the palm of the hand of the owner of said pair of legs.

When the unfortunate members of the second team completed the running of the gauntlet not one of them complained of the cold. The heat created was perfectly sufficient to keep them warm all the way home. In fact it was far more penetrating than the soft warmth thrown off by the camp fire.

"Now, skidoo!" yelled some fifty voices, and the six seconds each took a second in making their exit from the scene of the disaster.

"I wonder what they can be going to do with us?" grinned McCabe, to Judd. "Say, ... do I look like a defeated general?"

"Never give up the ship!" kidded Judd, then to the three fellows who were holding him down: "What's the idea of tyin' my feet?"

"General's orders, sir, General's orders!"

Benz strode up.

"Escort or carry the prisoners down to the old bridge. Forward march, men!"

It did not take long to reach the bridge.

Bartz ran up to Benz. "What are you going to do?" he asked, suspiciously. "Surely you're not thinking of ducking 'em this time of year!"

"No, ... only scare 'em! We'll hold 'em over the rail an' make believe we're going to drop 'em. Savvy?"

"I getcha. I thought that's what you were up to all the time," apologized Bartz, then in a louder voice; "Which one first, general?"

"Rube!" Benz shouted, sternly. "Here's where he shows the yellow streak," he said to himself. "Before all these fellows, too! ... Rube, you being the main offender, you must pay the penalty with your life. Carry him up to the rail, men!"

The fellows obeyed, soberly.

"You're not goin' to throw me in with my feet tied, are you?" asked Judd, calmly, without an effort to struggle. It was quite dark save for the reflection cast by the moon.

"We sure are!" Benz winked at the crowd that stood just behind, watching proceedings. "Any word you wish to leave for friends or relatives? Any directions as to how you want your earthly goods disposed of?"

"No, I reckon I'm ready to die now. The sooner the better," replied Judd, undaunted.

Benz hesitated. His bluff was not having the desired effect. "Why don't he beg for mercy?" Benz asked himself. "Isn't that guy afraid of anything?"

Then Benz did a daring thing. Without stopping to think of the consequences he seized Judd's shackled feet and lifted them over the low rail. A dozen hands assisted in hoisting Judd's big body up and over. Here was the critical moment. Would he beg now? If not, the fellows must pull him back and acknowledge that he was real stuff.

"How about it, Rube?" asked Benz, watching Judd's face closely, as he helped hold him, suspended, over the river. Not a muscle in Judd's body so much as quivered.

"You might untie my legs,..." he said again, quietly. "I never tried to swim that way."

Splash! It was done! Judd had dropped, how, no one knew, ... except Benz. There were wild cries and shouts; fellows crossed on both sides of the river to try and get trace of him. It was so dark no one saw him reappear, if he did reappear; after he struck the water. Benz, his teeth chattering with fright, ran back and forth upon the bridge not knowing what to do.

"He's drowned!" shouted McCabe, "No man can swim with his feet tied in that river! Benz, your practical joke worked this time!"

"The falls!" somebody shrieked. "They're just a little below that bend. He'll go over them and into the mill pond sure!"

Fellows began running along the river bank below the bend.

"If we only had a lantern!" another cried, frantically.

Several commenced calling Judd's name in the hope that he might hear and answer them.

"I can never go back to college after this!" Benz breathed, hysterically. "He's drowned and of course, I'll be blamed, ... but no! No one can prove that I let him drop! We'll all be held to account; ... Oh why, why did I do it?"

* * * * *

It was one o'clock and still no signs of Judd. Cateye was growing anxious. He got up, slipped on a bathrobe, and hobbling over to a chair, sat by the window looking out upon the campus.

"Judd said that he and Benz had almost clashed. I wonder if something has happened to one or both?" Cateye shuddered nervously at the thought.

Suddenly he glimpsed a lone figure running swiftly across the campus, rapidly nearing the dormitory. It was so dark that Cateye could not make out who it was but the very fact that the person was running coupled with the time of night, signified that something unusual had happened.

Whoever it was, was climbing the stairs at a terrific rate. Cateye grasped his crutch and hobbled toward the door. As he did so the door flung open with a bang.

"Cateye!"

"Judd! ... Why! You're soaked to the skin and blue with cold! What on earth has happened?"

"I reckon they tried to drown me," replied Judd, stepping in and closing the door. "But I fooled 'em! It was a narrow squeak though. If I hadn't struck a big rock I'd have gone over the falls!"

"But I thought you could swim, Judd?"

"Hump! Me swim? With my feet tied? Say, it was enough to keep my head above water in that current!"

"Your feet tied!" exclaimed Cateye, "You don't mean to tell me the fellows ...!"

"Yep, ... nope,... It was Benz! ... Benz, that's who 'twas!" Judd was quite excited now and shivering with cold. He tried to remove his dripping shirt.

"Let me help you!" Cateye ripped the shirt off. "But surely Benz wouldn't do that! He wouldn't dare for one thing, ... and he isn't quite a fool!"

"You'd hardly think it of it, would you?" Judd grinned, water trickling down his forehead. "If I hadn't hit that rock....! Somehow I made a grab as I went by an' caught it. Then I hung for dear life with one hand an' untied my feet with the other. You know, Cateye, I always did grip pretty hard. But just the same I thought that current would rip my arm right off at the shoulder before I got my feet loose! After I'd got free I hung on for a few minutes more till the fellows went on down the river searchin' for me. Then I struck out for shore an' believe me, I hit the high spots comin' home!"

"And doesn't anyone know but what you're drowned?"

"Only you, ... an' I!"

"Good! We'll teach the guys a lesson. Here, let me give you a good rub down. Darn this injured knee, anyhow. Just when a fellow needs help the most I can't be of much assistance. Now listen, you lay low when the bunch comes back. Get under the bed or somewhere. I'll pretend I don't know where you are. We'll teach them to play any more practical jokes!"

Judd grinned. "That 'ud kind of be turnin' the tables, eh?"

"Kind of, you bet! I hear somebody coming upstairs now! Take this alcohol bottle and rub yourself good to keep from catching cold. Get into the closet out of sight. Quick!"

Cateye waited until the footsteps reached the head of the stairs, then flung open the door and limped into the hall on his crutch. He met face to face with Benz.

"Rather late turning in, aren't you? Say, ... do you know where Judd is? I'm getting rather anxious. It's two o'clock and after, ... and he never kept very late hours!"

Benz's face was a pale white; his lips were trembling; he seemed near collapse.

"He's, ... he's, ... I think he's drowned!"

"What!" Cateye's concern was extremely realistic. "Drowned!"

"Shss!" warned Benz, glancing about nervously, "Don't wake the whole dorm! Step in your room here and I'll tell you the whole story."

Cateye backed in and sat down, turning on the light. Benz seated himself on the edge of the bed and clutched the bed sheets despairingly.

"Great heavens, man, don't keep me in suspense!" groaned Cateye, "Judd drowned! How'd it happen?"

"Well, ..." began Benz, "It all came out of a little joke!"

"So it was one of your pranks, eh? Drowning a man!" Cateye's voice was hard and cruel.

"I didn't mean it, Cateye, honest! I mean, ... the joke to go so far," Benz hastened to add, realizing that he had almost confessed. "We broke up a celebration the second team was having; captured Rube and McCabe and planned on giving 'em a good scare. So we carried 'em down to the bridge an' held Rube over the rail. I, ... we never meant to drop him, honest, but, ..."

"Why did you tie his feet?" As soon as Cateye asked the question he realized that he had pulled "a bone."

"Why did I? ... Did I tell you that?" Benz asked, wild-eyed.

"You sure did!" insisted Cateye, seeing a way out.

"Well, ... he put up such a fight we had to do something," explained Benz, weepingly, "And I just said we never meant to drop him!"

"Is anybody down at the river now?"

"Yes, the whole bunch. They're going to keep up the search till morning. I sent Bartz down to Tarlton to see the sheriff and get help. We're goin' to drag the river for his body in the morning, ..." Here Benz broke down completely.

Cateye heard Judd choking a laugh and realized he had to say something or the jig was up.

"And what are you doing here?" he demanded, savagely, "You, ... you who are probably more to blame for this, ... this murder than anyone else! Why aren't you out doing something to help recover his body?"

"I, ... I, ... oh Cateye, don't rub it in so! I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to come away. Oh, it's all a terrible nightmare to me. He can't be dead, ... he must be alive! Let me go, ... I've got to be by myself!"

Cateye did not try to restrain Benz. In fact he was mighty glad to have him go!

As soon as Benz had disappeared up the hall Judd stepped softly from the closet, the towel stuffed in his mouth, and fell upon the bed, shaking with laughter.

"How's that for real acting?" grinned Cateye.

"Gee, that's worth getting drowned to listen to!" howled Judd, "They're going to drag the river for me in the mornin'! Did you hear that? Well, ... I wish 'em luck. I hope they find me. I reckon it's rather awkward for a ghost like me not to know where my body is, ... floatin' around somewhere on the bottom of the river!"

"Shss! Judd, don't make so much noise! This will be the richest joke on Benz and the fellows for that matter, that ever came off. It'll teach Benz a lesson he'll never forget. You keep out of sight till after breakfast today. The whole college will know about it by that time!"

"Trust me, pal," assured Judd, "Most people can't see ghosts, anyhow!"



CHAPTER XIV

THE CONFESSION

Benz, after breaking the news to Cateye, hurried to his room where he paced up and down for a whole hour, undecided as to what best to do. Finally, unable to stand the strain longer, he grabbed his cap and rushed from the dormitory. It was four A.M. and not yet light.

Ten minutes later the good Professor Windell, president of the college, was awakened by a loud thumping on his front door. He stumbled sleepily out of bed and opened the window.

"What's amiss here?" he called down.

"Rube!" gasped Benz, "Oh, Mister Windell, come down an' let me in, quick! I want to confess! I did it! It was all my fault!"

"Just a minute, young man!" Professor Windell was waking fast now. He jerked on his purple bathrobe and jumped his feet into some house slippers and made haste to escort poor Benz into the library.

"Have a chair. Now, compose yourself! What's the trouble?"

Benz did not appear to notice the proffered seat but strode nervously up and down the room.

"Rube's drowned!" he said, suddenly, and seemed to shudder at the very words.

"Drowned!" repeated the president, greatly shocked, "Drowned!"

"Yes, sir ..." Benz pulled himself together with an effort, then began to explain as though it was a relief to get the matter off his mind. "You see the second team was havin' a celebration at the bend of the river last night because they beat the varsity. Well—I collected a bunch of fellows and we broke up the meeting. We caught Rube and McCabe an' we thought ... er ... er ... that is, I thought I'd like to scare Rube. So, as I was leader, I ordered the guys to carry him down to the old bridge an' hold him over the rail."

"You!" broke in President Windell, excitedly.

"Yes,—me!" cried Benz, bound to make a clean breast of it. "I didn't mean to do what I did but for some reason I ... I grabbed his feet an' ... an' when we held him over the rail ... I ... I let go!"

"What!"

"I don't know why I did it, sir. We only meant to scare him. I never intended that we should drop him in. Honest, I didn't!" Benz's tone turned to pleading. "Oh, it'll just about finish my folks, Mister Windell. What shall I do? ... What shall I do?"

President Windell was a highly strung, very excitable little man, well along in years. The sudden tragic news brought by Benz at such an early hour had done much to upset him.

"How do you know that Judd's actually drowned?" he asked, after a moment of serious deliberation.

"Why I ... we've searched the river ... as far as we could see he never even came up!" Benz answered, then added with conviction, "He's drowned all right!"

"But he could swim, couldn't he?" persisted the professor, hopefully. "Perhaps he ..."

"That's just it!" interrupted Benz, despairingly. "He might have had a good chance if he could ... but you see ... his feet were tied!"

"Feet tied!" President Windell laid a hand upon Benz and shook him. "See here—what were you young men up to? ... That's not much short of murder!"

"I know ... it sounds almost like it," admitted Benz.

"It's apt to go pretty hard with you," snapped the president, "Wait here until I go and dress. I want you to take me to where this happened. And while you're waiting, put in a call for the sheriff at Tarlton. He'll have to investigate anyway and the sooner he's on the job the better."

The professor disappeared upstairs. Benz hesitated a moment, his hands twitching nervously. Then he picked up the telephone and asked for long distance in a voice that faltered brokenly.

* * * * *

At breakfast that morning tense excitement reigned. News of the tragedy had just been spread broadcast and there were many vacant chairs. A great number of students had rushed for the river but a few of the calmer ones and those who loved their appetites above all else, answered the roll call and contented themselves in stowing away the usual number of pancakes.

Just as the meal was about over, Bartz staggered in, weak and exhausted. He had run many miles up and down the river bank in the hopes of discovering Judd—but a needle in a haystack might have been more readily found than Judd's corpse in a river bed.

A great crowd thronged about Bartz, asking him hundreds of different questions, excitedly. He made no attempt to answer them; in fact, his one desire seemed to be to get a bite to eat and steady his nerves. All he would say was: "Let me alone, fellows. I'm tired. Been up all night. No, we haven't found his body yet. Yes ... the sheriff's placed us all under temporary arrest. He's got our names an' he's coming after the bunch of us and take us down to Tarlton for a hearing at nine o'clock this morning. Oh, they'll drag the river all day if they don't find him. Yes, we're going to wire his folks in a couple of hours. For heaven's sake, guys, let me be! I need a rest!"

A decided gloom prevailed over the college. Judd, although he had been called a rube had become a great favorite and very popular at Bartlett.

The students looked at Cateye, sympathetically, when he hobbled down to breakfast half an hour later. His face was red and his eyes, ... yes, unmistakably swollen from excessive weeping. Cateye was met upon all sides with sincere words of sympathy and regret for the loss of his beloved room-mate. To all these declarations Cateye made the sober reply: "Thanks, fellows, thanks. Your grief and sympathy quite overwhelm me." Then, dabbing his face sadly with a handkerchief for effect, Cateye smothered many almost unsuppressible giggles. It was turning into such a rich joke! If no one discovered Judd before the time was set to bring him out, it would be great!

Judd, meanwhile, had remained within the close confinement of his room awaiting until the time was ripe to resurrect himself.

At eight o'clock President Windell suspended all morning classes and the entire college practically went into mourning. Benz, overcome with grief, confessed time and again his part in the tragedy wherever he could find an audience. Within another hour the sheriff came down from Tarlton and gravely proceeded to corral all the participants in the "foul murder." He had been newly appointed custodian of the law and was overly anxious to perform his duties well.

Almost the entire student body congregated on the campus shortly after nine o'clock, to witness the departure of the sheriff with those directly implicated in the plot.

"I can't tell yet what I'll do with ye!" the sheriff said, addressing the students under arrest. "But this here drownin' is a serious crime and, some of ye will have to pay for it! That's just the way with ye college sports anyhow. Always up to some thing and never satisfied till ye've committed some devilment. But ye'll pay for this, ... mark my words, ... and ye'll pay dear!"

Some students, including Pole and Potts, arrived at this moment. They had been helping drag the river but, despairing of recovering the body, had returned. A crowd surrounded them at once.

"What luck?"

"Find any trace of him?"

These and many more anxious questions were hurled at the weary searchers.

"We found his cap down by the bend in the river, that's all," responded Pole, sadly, passing the cap about for inspection. Then, noticing Benz in the throng: "Say, have they wired his folks yet?"

"... No."

"Well, that had better be attended to. They've got to know it sooner or later and we should notify them immediately."

"I'll see that a message is sent right away," replied Benz, brokenly.

At this juncture, Cateye, who had been watching from his window across the campus, decided that the time was ripe for Judd's resurrection. In fact the time was over-ripe. If Cateye had imagined what tremendous proportions the supposed drowning of Judd might assume he would never have devised the plan to cure Benz of his practical jokes.

"You'd better be taking that stroll right away, Judd," directed Cateye. "The sheriff's just about ready to depart with the bunch and it looks like every last student is out to bid farewell. Now do just as I told you and hurry or you'll be too late!"

Judd lost no time in descending the stairs and stepping quietly out of the dormitory. He stalked leisurely across the campus, passing several students on the way but they were so busy talking about the night's terrible happenings that they did not recognize him. In fact, Judd actually succeeded in mingling with the crowd, so intent were they all upon the departure of the sheriff and his prisoners. He took a position by the side of Benz, who was tearfully bidding good-bye. Judd, for the moment, was touched but remembering the many things Benz had done against him he thought the "cure" might do him good.

Of a sudden Benz chanced to turn and caught sight of Judd. At first he stared, wild-eyed, and in open-mouthed astonishment; then he recoiled from the terrific shock. He could not believe his eyes.

"Oh, fellows, help me! I'm seeing things!" Benz shrieked, covering his face with his hands and endeavoring to get away.

Everyone looked in Benz's direction and at the sight of Judd the greater portion of the crowd dispersed to a safe distance. Judd had come among them so quietly that the sight of him was a great shock.

Pole was the first to recover himself.

"Great guns, Rube!" he exclaimed, astounded. "I thought you were drowned!"

"Me! Drowned?" drolled Judd, slowly, "I should say not!"

"But where have you been all this time?" cried Potts.

Those who had sufficiently recovered, at least enough to believe their eyes, began gathering about joyfully.

"Up in my room," replied Judd, suppressing a yawn.

"How did you get out? Why didn't you let us know that you were o.k? What did you hold off so long for?" The questions were coming thick and fast.

"I didn't think about it and besides I was busy catching up sleep."

"Catching up sleep!"

"Yep,—I didn't get to bed last night till after one o'clock. And then, I got my clothes all wet and had to dry 'em out before I could appear in public again."

The joy of the students at having Judd restored to them as if from death itself, finally surpassed all bounds. They made a grand rush for the big, awkward youth and lifting him protestingly to their shoulders, they bore him once about the campus before releasing him, in this manner proclaiming the glad tidings.

The sheriff, disappointed at having his bid for prominence spoiled, still lingered about the students. At last he stepped up to Judd.

"Young man, do ye wish to swear out a warrant agin any of these rascals?"

"No, thanks," grinned Judd, "I reckon it isn't a very serious offence to duck a feller, is it?"

"Not very; but er,—er, attempted murder is different! Quite different!"

"You might give them each thirty days for a poor attempt," suggested Judd.

The bunch laughed.

Judd turned to Pole, who stood holding his cap. "I'll thank you for my lid, Pole. It's the only sky piece I've got."

"Well, let's lift the crepe and postpone the funeral," urged Potts, "The corpse has decided to take on new life and the mourners are wearing glad rags again. Classes begin this afternoon at one P.M. as usual. This way out!"

The crowd broke up, joyfully.



CHAPTER XV

JUDD GAINS A PROMOTION

One week more dragged slowly by; dragged because Cateye and Judd had been suspended for their antics in regard to the drowning incident. Benz escaped with only a severe reprimand. Cateye assumed the entire blame for the affair and sought to have his room-mate released, but President Windell declared: "One is as guilty as the other," and forced both boys to do penance.

The intended cure for Benz had been a splendid failure in more ways than one. True, Benz felt highly elated to know that Judd was not drowned but he also was indignant because Judd allowed the students to think him dead and let the affair gain such prominence. Since the incident Benz's popularity had decreased fully fifty percent. He was greeted with taunts and jeers and nicknamed, "The Impractical Joker." Life had grown exceedingly unpleasant. Benz avoided everyone that he could, imagining that the whole college was turned against him. He remained close within the seclusion of his room during idle moments; practiced football somewhat indifferently; scarcely ever opened his mouth except when it came time to eat; and above all things he kept out of Judd's sight. He was very thankful that Judd had been suspended. This kept the rube from football practice and Benz could again star against the seconds.

Poor, mis-used second team! The week following their disastrous celebration on the bank of the Pretty Falls River had been a trying one for them. Minus their best player, the varsity had gone at them with a vengeance, piling up top heavy scores in every scrimmage, until McCabe remarked one night after an unusually crushing defeat: "Fellows, I feel like Napoleon after the battle of Waterloo."

Cateye had hoped that this joke might prove an ending of hostilities between Benz and Judd but he now realized the foolhardiness of his plan and wished many times that he had never suggested it to Judd. The return joke on Benz had produced exactly the opposite effect than that desired. Besides, Judd had lost an entire week of valuable football practice and one week from tomorrow, upon Thanksgiving day, came the great game with Pennington!

The contest this year meant more than formerly. The two colleges were not only intense rivals but neither had been defeated throughout the present season. Reports from Pennington claimed the strongest eleven in the history of the college. Why, Pennington had defeated the State University, 9 to 0, a short time ago, which victory rightfully gave her the title of State Champion!

Bartlett supporters in turn, heralded their eleven as the greatest bunch of warriors ever gotten together. But, although the students were loyal to the core, deep down in their hearts they doubted whether Bartlett even so much as had a chance against Pennington this year. Pennington, claimants of the State Championship by virtue of their victory over the State University, a heretofore unheard of exploit! Pennington, the rival college, which had not only defeated some of the same teams played by Bartlett but had even doubled and in one case tripled the scores! On paper the Pennington team seemed much the stronger eleven but despite this fact everyone at Bartlett was looking eagerly forward to the day when the unbeaten colleges would clash.

Thursday morning, one week before the big game, Pole rushed jubilantly into Cateye's room.

"Hurrah! Your suspensions are raised!" he cried.

"What's that?" Cateye and Judd shouted, jumping to their feet.

"That's what!" rejoiced Pole. "Gee, that's great news! I just heard about it a minute ago."

"You bet it's great news! Whoopee, Judd, that means football practice again to-night!"

Cateye began to dance a Highland fling of his own invention. "And my injured knee is practically well now. Maybe I won't be able to hit that old line, huh?"

Judd and Pole winked at each other.

"The silly boy," grinned Judd.

"The news has upset him," laughed Pole.

The appearance of Judd and Cateye upon the gridiron that afternoon was the signal for a great ovation. The members of the second team crowded about their idol, Judd, and immediately began plotting the destruction of the "beloved" varsity. Cateye, meanwhile, was kept busy answering greetings from his old team-mates.

"Hello, Cateye, how's that knee of yours?" It was Neil, quarterback, speaking.

"Fine!" responded Cateye, adjusting his shoulder pads.

"That's good. I sure am glad to see you back. Between you and me, Cateye, left guard has been the weak spot on our team since you were laid up. Besides, Benz hasn't been playing up to standard and although we've been trimming the seconds we haven't got that old fighting spirit. The boys are due to recover their form to-day."

"Everybody out!" ordered Coach Phillips. The players trotted from the locker room onto the field.

"Billings, you take right guard on the seconds and Cateye, your old position at left guard on the varsity. We'll have fifteen minutes of signal practice and a thirty minute's scrimmage. Lively now!"

Practice that afternoon did go off better. Benz played with a vengeance, eager to out do any play that Judd might make, and he was successful in tearing off several long gains; through Judd's position too! Benz was elated.

The explanation was quite simple. Judd, assigned the position of right guard found that he was pitted directly against Cateye who played left guard for the varsity. Rather than show up his room-mate Judd made half-hearted attempts to stem the varsity's advance, and the seconds, losing some of their confidence in Judd's stonewall defence, allowed the varsity to score almost at will.

A hundred or so onlookers, enthused by the varsity's exceptional showing, shouted, "Oh you Pennington!" until their voices were hoarse.

It was a badly bruised and dejected second team that crawled off the field after scrimmage was over following one of the worst trouncings that they had ever experienced. The varsity, upon the other hand, was bubbling over with pep and renewed confidence.

"Guess we've found our stride again!" cried Benz, almost the first cheerful words he had uttered in a week.

"Found our stride!" ejaculated Pole, "Why man, we're away ahead of our stride."

"Don't get too cocky over that showing," warned Bartz, inclined to be cautious. "Even the best of 'em fall, you know."

"Bartz is right," spoke up Neil, "In order to keep our record clean up to the Pennington game we've got to wallop Paulson this coming Saturday. And that'll be a hard game too. We can't expect to loaf and win. We've got to be in the fight every minute!"

"We'll be there, kid!" grunted the big Oole.

Judd and Cateye walked back to the dormitory together. Cateye, for some reason that Judd could not understand, was not very talkative.

"The varsity sure did rip us seconds up to-day," began Judd, for the nth time, trying to get an answer from his room-mate.

Cateye unlocked the door to his room, stepped in, and swung about, facing Judd.

"Judd, what did you do that for?" he questioned, softly.

"Do what?" rejoined Judd, evasively.

"True, you didn't do anything in scrimmage to-day," admitted Cateye, "But I know the reason why."

"That's easy, I haven't played for over a week," retorted Judd, "I'll tell you it takes practice to—."

"Nonsense, Judd! A kid could have played as well as you did this afternoon. Don't try to bluff me; I know you too well. If you'd have played any other position on that team you'd have been a living cyclone, but just because Coach Phillips put you in against me you laid down!"

"It isn't so!" protested Judd, weakly.

"It is so!" persisted Cateye, "And what's more, if we have the same positions to-morrow and you play that way I'll go to the coach about it!"

"Well,—s'pose it is so," surrendered Judd, "No man on earth can make me go back on my room-mate—."

"Judd, you don't look at things in the right light," argued Cateye. "I know that you're true blue to me and all that but you're not true to your college,—your team."

"Why not?" demanded Judd, kicking at a rug.

"Because, you are not giving your team the best that is in you! Some time ago you sacrificed a chance to play on the first team because you would not accept my position. To-day, by your miserable playing, you lowered yourself in the coach's estimation and undoubtedly made me look good. But you know, and I know, Judd that there are few football men who could hold that line against you if you cared to get through. It is your duty to play your best regardless of circumstances."

"I think more of my friends than any old football team in the country," mumbled Judd, stubbornly. "There's no use talking, Cateye, I'll lay down, every time he pits me against you."

Luckily Judd was shifted to right tackle the following afternoon and a chance for further trouble was averted. The varsity was not quite as successful as on the previous day and it took a hard fight to drub the seconds in a short scrimmage.

The next day, Saturday, Bartlett met and defeated Paulson, 20 to 7, thus keeping her record clean for the entire season up to the final game. The high class of football that the little college displayed in besting Paulson, a team touted to be her equal, gladdened the hearts of every Bartlett rooter. The spirits of all were now fairly on edge for the coming contest with Pennington, just five days away. Some even conceded Bartlett an equal chance but when respective records were compared the skeptics shook their heads. Although both teams had clean slates as to victories, Pennington had played against some stronger teams than Bartlett and seemed to possess a much greater scoring machine.

Cateye had only played in one quarter of the Paulson game. Coach Phillips was saving him for the big fray and taking no risks of his knee giving out. Judd watched the game from the bench.

Monday afternoon marked the last day of scrimmage for the varsity. Coach Phillips had decided to spend the remaining two days at secret signal practice. Consequently the college turned out almost to a man to watch their idol pigskin chasers maul the scrubs as a final demonstration of their ability to whip Pennington. Inspired by the wild cheers of the student body and the realization that the season's biggest game was only two days distant, the varsity fairly outdid itself.

But the faithful second team was resolved to make the varsity earn every touchdown that they secured and fought fiercely to stop each play. For fifteen minutes the battered seconds withstood the onslaught and actually succeeded in pushing across a touchdown themselves. After this the game became a rout and finally ended in a 56 to 7 score. Both elevens left the field, physically fit and in good spirits, but dead tired.

"Whew!" gasped Benz, throwing a shoe the length of the locker room, "Talk about marathon races! I'll bet I ran ten or twenty miles up and down the field scoring touchdowns."

"Great snakes! Did you hear that, guys?" broke in Knox, a second string man, "The swelled head only scored two touchdowns himself and yet he runs ten or twenty miles! What were you doing, Benz, playing solitaire?"

"Never you mind," retorted Benz, amid laughter; then, seeing a way out: "Possibly, Knox, you have never heard of Miles Standish. That's the kind of Miles I run."

"Zowie!"

"Take him out!"

"Stow it!"

"As bright as mud!"

"Call a doctor!"

"A cold shower for that!" shouted Neil, "That stuff is too deep for we'uns!"

A dozen hands seized the unwilling Benz and thrust him cruelly under a cold, cold shower.

"B-r-r-r-r-r! Let me out!" sputtered Benz, making a tremendous struggle. "I don't mind the cold but that water is wet!"

"A double dose for that!" howled Pole, and Benz was forced to submit to another flood of H2O. He was finally released and took his punishment good naturedly. The fun went on, first one, and then the other of the fellows being made the object for humorous attack.

Of a sudden the locker door opened and Coach Phillips stepped in. Instantly all laughing and talking ceased. Fellows in half-dressed attitudes hesitated before proceeding. It was evident by the look on Coach Phillips' face that he had something important to say.

"Any of the fellows left yet?"

"No!"

"Good!" snapped the coach. "I have a little something that I want to say to you all before you go. I—"

"Ouch! Have a heart!" Benz had unwittingly slapped Pole across the small of the back with a wet bath towel. A titter of laughter went up.

"Benz, stop that fooling and pay attention!" Coach Phillips' voice was unusually hard and penetrating.

"Fun is all right in its place," continued the coach, "I'm glad to see you fellows light-hearted and care free. That is usually a good sign before a game. But too much of this sort of business will have a disastrous effect. Such mental attitudes breed self confidence. Self confidence breeds listlessness; and listlessness spells defeat. Now don't misunderstand me. I want you to have a certain amount of confidence, in yourselves, in the team. But beware of over-confidence! Over-confidence will do more than misplays or anything else to bring defeat. Just because we have gone through the season thus far unbeaten, don't for one moment imagine that we are invincible. In order to win Thursday it will take all the skill, strength, and endurance that you fellows have! From now on until the big game is over I want every fellow on the varsity to forget his studies. There is no occasion to look astonished, (as several players gasped). It is a new procedure at Bartlett, I know, but I believe a wise one. You have all worked hard and kept up in your marks throughout the entire season. Now I want complete relaxation. Don't look at a class book. Work hard in football practice and memorize those plays so well that there is not a possibility of mistake. Forget about the game. Get plenty of sleep the next two nights. Take good care of yourselves. When you trot on the field Thanksgiving day I expect to see the best physically and mentally fit team that Bartlett college has ever turned out. Remember, it is not only brawn but brains that wins games now-a-days and you fellows must be in the fight with minds and bodies every minute!"

"Yea!"

"I wish to thank every member of the second team for the loyal manner in which you have come out night after night in order to make a good first team possible," went on Coach Phillips, ignoring the show of enthusiasm. "I am sure that you will all feel amply repaid if your efforts will have made the varsity victorious in the coming big game. Just as a great army depends upon those left behind to properly feed and clothe it, so does a varsity football team depend upon its second team to keep it at its playing strength and build it up through scrimmage. A good first team can hardly ever be attained without a good second team. The fact that we have had an exceptionally fine second team this year has been largely responsible for the success of the varsity.

"I have already talked longer and said more than I at first intended. The second team's work is done for the year but the varsity's hardest work is yet to come. I want all of you varsity men to report for signal practice to-morrow at two P. M. All of you may go now except Judd Billings and McCabe of the seconds."

The fellows filed noisily out of the locker room leaving the wondering Judd and the elated McCabe to interview Coach Phillips.

"What have I done now?" demanded Judd of McCabe, when he was ordered to remain.

"Don't you know, you rube!" hissed McCabe, joyfully, in his ear. "We're promoted!"

"Promoted?"

"Yes,—unless I miss my guess he's going to tell us to report for practice with the varsity!"

"That would be kind of nice, wouldn't it?" replied Judd, trying to conceal his joy at the very thought.

Coach Phillips closed the locker door and came up, facing the two eager youths.

"Both of you report for signal practice with the varsity to-morrow. It is possible that you may get into the game Thursday, for a short time at least. Remember what I told the rest about keeping in condition and not studying until the game is over. McCabe, come to my room to-night at seven. I want you to get the signals well in mind and especially some new plays. That is all."

The coach turned abruptly and left the locker room.

McCabe and Judd stood eyeing each other, the news seeming too good to be true. Finally McCabe broke the trance by running across and thumping Judd joyfully.

"What did I tell you?" he shouted, "And it's my first chance in four years!"



CHAPTER XVI

BEFORE THE GAME

Wednesday night, the eve of the coming contest with the mighty Pennington eleven, found Bartlett college in a state of wild confusion and excitement. The campus was lined with students and returning alumni, some of the latter having come hundreds of miles just to see the unbeaten elevens clash.

News from the village of Tarlton announced every hotel and place of accommodation to be over-crowded with visitors, friends, relatives, and alumni, waiting for the morrow.

A delegation of students had been busy all day collecting empty dry goods boxes, odd pieces of wood, limbs of trees, and what not for the creating of a large bonfire should Bartlett be victorious. All this refuse was concealed behind one of the dormitories ready to be dragged out and placed in the center of the campus pending a successful termination of the game.

Judd and Cateye watched the throngs jostling back and forth across the campus from their window in the dormitory. The football men had been given strict orders not to mingle with the crowd and to retire early. The two chums felt rather awed by the spirit of the occasion and the significance of the morrow. For a long time they sat side by side listening to the college yells and songs drifting up to them from below. Although a veteran football man, Cateye was deeply affected by the display of enthusiasm and college spirit.

"What a wonderful thing it all is," he found himself musing aloud.

"What all is?" inquired Judd.

"Why,—this college spirit."

"Hump!" breathed Judd, lightly, "I thought you was talkin' about some patent medicine."

The careless reply and Judd's former actions caused Cateye to wonder if college spirit really meant anything to the rube. Cateye knew Judd to be intensely loyal to his friends and wished that his chum might show that same sense of loyalty to his college or team.

After a fifteen minute silence Judd began to show signs of restlessness which Cateye wrongly interpreted.

"Nervous?" he asked, softly, throwing an arm about his chum's brawny shoulders.

"Naw!" growled Judd, disgustedly, "Just anxious for fear I won't get a chance to play tomorrow."

The singing and yelling did not cease until after eleven o'clock but two hours before this time Coach Phillips made sure that every football man was snugly stowed away in bed. Judd dropped off to sleep immediately upon retiring, but nothing short of chloroform could have caused Cateye to lose consciousness while the din kept up. His mind was too occupied with the trend of coming events.

As the last song was sung and the last yell was yelled Cateye delved into the mysteries of slumberland.

For two hours his rest was undisturbed. But after this came more interruptions. Cateye awoke with a start. The same sort of chill crept up his spine as on the night of Judd's arrival. This time, however, Cateye sensed at once just what had produced the sensation. Judd was talking in his sleep again. It was his first offense since that memorable night so long ago.

"Gimme that ball! ... No, I'm not hurt! Jes' gimme the ball an' I'll take her across! ... Signals over! That's it! My number. Look out, there!"

The talking stopped and Judd began to grind his teeth, an unpleasant sound, especially at night. This was too much for Cateye. He bounded out of bed and switched on the light. At the same moment Judd came out of his nightmare by emitting a loud groan and kicking the bed free of covers.

"What's the matter?" gasped Cateye.

"Oh, nothin'," grinned Judd, sleepily, "I only made a touchdown."

Cateye crawled back into bed, shivering from the aftermath. Judd soon began to snore regularly showing what little effect the scoring of a touchdown had upon him. After listening to the hoarse rumble for a few minutes Cateye buried his head in a pillow and muttered to himself: "Oh, for a maxim silencer!" Despite the snores he soon fell asleep and did not awaken until late Thanksgiving morning.

By noon of the eventful day an enormous crowd of people had gathered, representing loyal rooters and supporters of the respective colleges, Bartlett and Pennington, as well as those impartial to either team, who were attracted for sheer love of the game itself.

The college grounds shone with bobbing pennants and colors; the Red and Blue of Pennington; the Black and Gold of Bartlett. Outside the gate to the gridiron at one o'clock a great throng of football enthusiasts clamored for entrance.

One half hour later a special train, carrying the rival eleven, Pennington; a band, and five hundred rooters, pulled in. As the Penningtonites leaped off the train dressed in full football garb; red and blue jerseys, Indian blankets of the same color design and striped hosiery, they received a tremendous ovation from the assembled crowd.

Led by their college band the football warriors paraded to the gridiron followed by a wild column of Pennington rooters, each waving a red and blue pennant. The sight was very impressive and thrilling.

When, at exactly two-twenty, the Pennington eleven trotted, unheralded, onto the field and, tossing off their blue Indian blankets, began to run through some snappy signal work, from the Pennington stands a mass of red and blue rose and fell in perfect rhythm to the tune of "The Warrior," Pennington's football song.

The Bartlett rooters in the stands directly across the field tried their best to defeat the demonstration being made by Pennington, combining the efforts of band and cheer leaders in order to do so, but the momentary enthusiasm of the visiting college at sight of their splendid eleven, for a time, eclipsed all attempts to drown them out.

In the locker room sixteen Bartlett team-mates, primed for battle, heard the roar that swept across the field as the Pennington eleven swooped upon the gridiron. Benz, pulling his shoulder pads in place, strode about the room, nervous and anxious for the fray to begin. Other players showed signs of uneasiness. Judd was the only one on the team who seemed perfectly calm. As the din was at its height he turned to Pole, who had laced and unlaced his shoe three times for no reason whatever, and remarked quietly: "A noisy bunch, aren't they?"

At this moment Coach Phillips entered. He had been watching the enemy eleven as they ran through light signal practice before the frenzied crowd.

A few of the players gathered in a semi-circle about him, arms thrown over each other's shoulders. Some were laboriously rubbing resin into their hands to insure against fumbling the ball. Others, a little affected by the mighty demonstration going on from without, paced restlessly up and down.

"It's going to be a real battle to-day," warned the coach. "Pennington has a wonderful aggregration. Their defeat of the State University some weeks ago gives them the highest rating of any team in this part of the country. A victory to-day puts Bartlett on the football map as never before. And in order to win we must fight, fight, fight, every second of the sixty minutes!

"Pennington has been depending largely this season upon the great work of Gordon, fullback. He is a giant, six feet tall, weight two hundred and fourteen pounds, and fast on his feet. He is the man you must stop! Pennington has won every game this year in the first half. They use this Gordon as a human battering ram, breaking up the opposing line and making victory easy. No eleven this season had been able to check his advances!

"Stop their slashing attack the first half, fellows, and you'll win the game. The reason General Grant was so successful in his campaigns was that he did not realize when he was defeated. He advanced despite his defeats. That's the spirit I want you fellows to show! If you fail to gain ground in one attempt put just that much more strength into the next attempt. Game starts in ten minutes, fellows, so you'd better be getting out on the field. Benz, remember to hit that line lower. Neil, call your signals fast and snappy. Keep the team up and at 'em. You linemen, the fate of to-day's game is largely up to you. You must shoulder the brunt of the work and shatter the Pennington attack. The men who will start to-day's game are,—"

Sixteen heads bobbed suddenly up and sixteen pairs of entreating eyes focused themselves upon the coach.

"Left end, Bartz; left tackle, Oole; left guard, Frey; center, Williams; right guard, McKean; right tackle, Potts; right end, Pole; quarterback, Neil; left half, Gary; right half, Patterson; fullback, Hoffmaster. Now, out of here, every one of you! Show lots of pep and don't let that crowd bother you! You have played in front of big crowds before and won. Do it today!"

The eleven fortunate men jumped nimbly to their feet and filed quickly out of the locker room.

Judd slapped Cateye on the back as his chum arose to go.

"Give 'em fits, pal," he said, simply.



CHAPTER XVII

THE FIRST HALF

The appearance of the Bartlett eleven touched a match to all the explosives that the Bartlett rooters had stored up and a riot of deafening sound rocked the field.

The crowd easily outnumbered any ever congregated at Bartlett. Half of the eastern bleachers had been reserved for the Pennington rooters, while the section directly across was occupied by Bartlett enthusiasts. The seating capacity was greatly overtaxed. At least two thousand people hovered behind the goal posts at the ends of the field and swarms were even accommodated in roped off areas between the foot of the bleachers and the playing lines.

Both teams appeared a trifle nervous before the game commenced, undoubtedly caused by the magnitude of the crowd and the importance of winning.

McDonald, Thorpe, Preston, McCabe, and Judd, all Bartlett substitutes, swathed in extra sweaters, seated themselves by the sidelines, in an advantageous position, to watch the game.

Benz, captain, conferred with Melvin, Pennington captain. The referee tossed a coin. Melvin won the toss and chose to receive the kickoff. Benz selected the north goal for Bartlett to defend. The two teams lined up quickly. An avalanche of sound came from the spectators.

"Are you ready?" shrieked the referee to the Pennington captain.

Melvin raised his hand in the affirmative.

"Ready, Bartlett?"

But Benz was crouching, tying up a shoe lace, preparatory to kicking, and trying to overcome his nervousness. This prolonged the tenseness.

After an age, it seemed, he straightened up; the referee raised his arm; the Bartlett men leaned forward, expectantly; the whistle screeched; Benz booted the ball; and the great game was on!

It was a splendid kickoff. The ball rose, spinning like a top and with enough impetus to send it far down the field.

Knapp, Pennington quarterback, captured the pigskin on his fifteen yard line and dodged in behind his quickly formed interference. For five,—ten,—fifteen yards he ran; his advance guard toppling man after man who attempted to reach him!

The crowd was on its feet, howling like mad!

"Stop him!" shrieked the Bartlett stands.

"Go on, Pennington!" bawled the Red and Blue.

A lanky individual now loomed up in the path of the oncoming trio. It was Pole! He hurled himself straight at the knees of the interference and the men went down like ten pins.

All save Knapp. Small of stature and a veritable rabbit on his feet; his interference now gone, he depended upon his own cleverness to gain more ground. He eluded the too eager arms of Benz who missed his tackle completely and struck face downward on the sod.

The spectators were now become fairly wild with excitement. Such a brilliant run at the very outset of the game was entirely unlooked for!

"He's got a clear field!" screamed some voice above the din.

"A touchdown from kickoff!" cried a Pennington enthusiast.

Knapp, in order to escape all opponents, now skirted the edge of the gridiron. He passed within a few feet of the Bartlett substitutes who were wildly hoping that some one might down him.

Judd's quick eye saw only one man between Knapp and a touchdown. That man was Cateye!

"Get that guy, Cateye!" bellowed Judd, making a megaphone of his hands.

In that frenzied moment, above the terrific din, Cateye heard and recognized Judd's voice wafted out to him. The words seemed to give him added zeal. He raced across the field toward the speeding Knapp. The little quarterback, confronted with this new obstacle, turned in sharply as Cateye lurched through the air, in order to avoid the tackle. But Cateye had judged the distance too true and Knapp had dodged too late. There was an impact as shoulder met thigh and a crunching sound as the two rolled over and over upon the turf; then mighty cheers.

"That-a-boy, Cateye!" barked Judd, joyously, while the Bartlett stands echoed his name.

"Yea, Knapp!" thundered the Penningtonites.

Knapp's fine sixty yard run injected a world of pep into his team and restored their confidence. The Bartlett eleven, on the contrary, was badly disheartened and shaken up by the suddenness of the spectacular run.

With the ball on Bartlett's twenty-five yard line and four plays to make a touchdown the Pennington team assailed the Black and Gold line viciously.

On the first play the ball went to Gordon, the heavy full back, who plowed through the right side of Bartlett's line for eight yards.

"Wow! Nothing to it!" roared the Pennington stands.

"Hold 'em, Bartlett!" entreated the supporters of the Black and Gold.

An end run netted five more yards, placing the ball on the twelve yard line. Gordon then took the pigskin, plunging straight through the center of the line for four yards. The Bartlett eleven seemed wholly unable to cope with the swift, varied, smashing attack of the visitors. It was evident to the onlookers that Knapp's brilliant run at the start of the game, coupled with Gordon's tremendous line bucking, had completely bewildered the Bartlett team. It was the first time during the entire season that any eleven had been able to gain consistently through the line and this fact further discouraged the Black and Gold.

"Hold 'em, fellows!" begged Benz, from the backfield. "Don't let 'em get a touchdown!"

The line stiffened and shifted to meet the next attack. They were already fighting in the shadow of their goal posts. Gordon again carried the ball and the play came direct for Cateye. By exerting a great effort Cateye broke through the Pennington line and dropped the huge Gordon for a slight loss.

The Bartlett stands became a mass of color. Cateye's name was on every Bartlett rooter's tongue.

Pennington, as Coach Phillips had said, was using Gordon, almost exclusively, from the outset of the game, as a battering ram to wear down the Bartlett line. Once the line was shot to pieces victory would be easy.

The Bartlett eleven, encouraged by Cateye's checking of the Pennington advance, regained in a measure their lost confidence and every yard thenceforth gained by the rival college demanded a royal struggle.

But Pennington was not to be denied the spoils of her rapid advance. Her dashing, smashing attack had progressed too far to be immediately and successfully blocked. Bartlett was beaten stubbornly back until the players crouched upon the very goal line with Pennington two downs to take the ball across.

The Red and Blue tried an end run but Benz tackled the man with the ball before he had gained a yard. Benz was fairly outplaying himself and sobbing like a baby.

The Bartlett stands shrieked encouragement, while from the Pennington bleachers came yells of, "Touchdown! Touchdown!"

On the last down, with less than two yards to go, Gordon ripped straight through the line and over the goal for a touchdown.

Amid a cascade of yells and wild demonstrations the Bartlett eleven lined up under their goal posts, awaiting the try for goal.

Knapp, the star Pennington quarterback, to whom much credit must go for the sudden overwhelming of Bartlett, threw himself face downward on the turf and held the ball at arms length to allow Bowen, halfback, to kick. Bowen paced a short distance back, carefully, then turned and running lightly forward, toed the ball squarely over and between the goal posts. Score, Pennington, 7; Bartlett, 0.

The Pennington rooters began to chant the score with the hopes of further disheartening the Bartlett eleven. "We want more! We want more!" volleyed Pennington.

"Rah! Bartlett, Rah! Fight 'em! Fight 'em! Fight 'em!" answered the Bartlett stands defiantly.

There were seven minutes left of the first quarter. Pennington kicked off. Potts caught the ball and advanced it eight yards to the twenty-six yard line. It was the first time during the game that Bartlett had the ball in her possession and the Bartlett supporters were hopeful.

Neil called on Patterson, right half, for an end run, but the play barely netted a yard. Benz shot through the line for four yards. The Bartlett stands roared. Gary, left half, attempted a run around the other end but was downed with no gain. Benz dropped back and punted forty yards. The ball was Pennington's on their own twenty-nine yard line.

Using the same tactics as before and working one forward pass to advantage, Pennington began another steady march down the field. Bartlett was being completely outplayed in every department of the game. The quarter ended with the ball on Bartlett's seventeen yard line and Pennington's first down.

The teams exchanged goals and play started again. Gordon hammered his way through the line for nine yards with three tacklers hanging to him. The Bartlett defense seemed to grow weaker every minute. A trick play was good for three more yards, and with the ball on Bartlett's five yard line Knapp got away for a wide end run and a touchdown. The Pennington stands cheered madly. Why, this was no game; Bartlett was being outclassed! It had taken Pennington only three minutes to put over the second touchdown from the seventeen yard line. Bowen was forced to attempt the goal kick from quite an angle and the ball went wild. Score, Pennington, 13; Bartlett, 0.

Again Pennington kicked off. Cateye received the ball and advanced it back twenty yards in a pretty, dodging run. Neil tried vainly to enthuse the fallen spirits of his team-mates. They were not playing true to form; they were suffering the slump of the season and during the biggest game!

Benz was forced to punt again, the eleven not being able to make a first down. Gordon & Company started another triumphal march toward the coveted goal. This time the progress was easier than before. After each play several Bartlett men were seen to hobble wearily to their positions. The strain was beginning to tell. Soon the game would become a rout.

A fumble! Bartlett's ball! The stands came to life. Pennington's advance was at least momentarily checked. Neil called on Benz to carry the ball. He made three yards. Neil used him again. Benz tore off seven yards around end and Bartlett had made its first down!

Patterson and Gary, halfbacks, could gain very little on respective attempts. Neil was forced to call on Benz to make the yards. Benz was good for six. In a fake punt formation Benz tried a pass, but Norton, Pennington right end, intercepted the ball and carried it fifteen yards to the Bartlett thirty yard line before being downed. Bartlett's slight revival of form was thus ended.

There were six minutes left to play of the first half, and Pennington meant to have another touchdown. Every play was good for a few yards at least.

Cateye, who had played a wonderful game at left guard, was tiring fast. Knapp had chosen the left side of the line to direct a good share of his smashes at and Cateye had borne the brunt of the attack. Now, after each play, he was the last man to crawl upon his feet, and fall back into his position.

Pennington fought its way to the seven yard line. There were three minutes left in which to score a touchdown. Gordon took the ball, intending to drive his way through Cateye's position for a substantial gain. But Cateye, calling forth one last, great effort, broke through and tackled Gordon for a one yard loss.

The crowd gave him a mighty cheer but Cateye heard it not. He lay where he had fallen. Benz rushed up, knelt down beside him, then motioned to Neil.

"Help me get him to the sidelines, will you? He's knocked out!"

Someone rushed up with a blanket and pail of water. Cateye was carried to the sidelines. The substitutes crowded around. Judd pushed them aside.

"Cateye! Pal! Wake up! What's the matter?" Judd shook him rather roughly.

Cateye began to come to. "My knee! My knee!" he gasped.

Judd jerked off Cateye's shoe and sock. The bandaged knee was already badly swollen.

Coach Phillips came to Cateye's side. "Tough luck, old man. You played a great game. Judd, take off your sweater. You're going in Cateye's place. It's up to you. Hold 'em!"

"Me? Naw,—well," Judd hesitated, glancing at his room-mate.

"Go in, Judd, and stop that Gordon! There's two more downs and two minutes to play. Don't let 'em make a touchdown!" Cateye pleaded.

Judd still lingered, uncertain.

A strange voice was heard outside the group. "Let me in I say! That man was my former room-mate!"

"Why,—Bob Billings!" exclaimed Cateye, delighted, and forgetting his badly wrenched knee for the moment. "I didn't know you were here!"

"Just arrived a few minutes before the game started," replied the great Bob, reaching out and grabbing his open-mouthed younger brother, "Hello, Judd! What are you doing standing here? The crowd's calling for you. I supposed you'd gone out. Hurry up! Don't stop to argue. It's time for play to begin again. I'll see you at the end of the first half. Save the game, old man!"

Without a word Judd ripped off his jersey and dashed out upon the field. So Bob was here! And Cateye laid out! And,—Bartlett was being beaten! Well, he'd do his best to please Bob and Cateye, but how could he save the game? "Gosh!" thought Judd, "The game's lost already!"

Nevertheless he jumped peppily into Cateye's position. Just as his presence had inspired the second team so did his presence now cause new life to appear in the varsity.

Benz rushed up to Judd, throwing an arm about his shoulders. What did this mean? Another trick? But—no—it couldn't be——! that look in Benz's face and then—Benz was holding out his hand! Judd gripped it in a daze as the stands roared. All this action took place in two minutes time but to Judd it seemed like hours. So much had happened in those two minutes! And here Judd found himself actually playing in Cateye's position, something he had vowed that he would never do! Besides this, Benz had become his friend. Wonder of wonders!

But Judd had no more time to contemplate. The referee's whistle shrieked, and he became painfully aware that he was in the direct path of the onslaught. He braced himself; hit the opposing line low, and as a mass of legs passed over him he grabbed an armful and hung on. The roar in the stands became a rumble. Judd had stopped the great Gordon without a gain!

He staggered to his feet, a numb feeling in one hand, and Benz patting him joyfully on the back.

"Get him just once more, Rube, old man," yelled Benz, in his ear, "and it'll be our ball!"

Judd crouched in his position, his whole being concentrated on one object, Gordon. Would they use him again? Or might Pennington resort to some trick play to put the ball across?

Judd saw Knapp look at Gordon as he knelt to receive the ball; he saw the ball snapped back; saw Gordon dash forward and apparently take it from Knapp's hands, plunging into the other side of the line. All was confusion. All were mislead but Judd. He burst through his side of the line just as Gordon started forward. He saw the fake pass; saw all his team-mates lurch toward the right in a frantic effort to stop the much feared Gordon. But above all this he saw Knapp, running free, with the ball tucked under his arm!

And Knapp saw Judd, the only obstacle between him and a touchdown. Seven yards to go! Time almost up! Knapp ran straight at Judd; then as the rube dove for a tackle, he jumped clear.

Pennington gave a lusty cheer,—then a groan of dismay, for Judd had rolled quickly over and made a frantic grab at the flying feet as they passed him. His right hand came in contact with Knapp's right ankle and closed over it like a vice. Knapp fell his full length prone upon the ground. Such a cheer as went up from the Bartlett stands! Everyone was on their feet lauding Judd. And just then the whistle blew calling time for the first half.

It was a much different team that left the field after that last two minutes of play. A new spirit now prevailed. Although woefully battered, out-generaled, and outplayed, beaten by a 13 to 0 score, Judd's presence had produced the tonic which revived their spirits and restored the punch which had been sadly lacking.

Benz and Neil escorted Judd to the sidelines whispering happily in his ears.

"You stopped 'em, old fellow! You saved another touchdown! Great stuff! Just wait until next half!"

"Say!" exploded Judd, ignoring the praise, "That little sucker is a spry one, isn't he? A shoe-string more an' I'd never have caught him!"



CHAPTER XVIII

THE SECOND HALF

Bob rushed out and greeted Judd before he reached the sidelines.

"Fine work, old man! You're a wonder! I knew you would be if they ever gave you a chance. Why, say, it was worth coming a hundred miles just to see those two plays! Shake hands, Buddy. You don't know how glad I am to see you. Hold on, what's this,—blood?"

"Yep," grinned Judd, gazing a bit ruefully at his right hand which was swollen and bleeding. "That big jumbo Gordon put his foot on it."

"Here, let me fix it for you." Bob hunted up some tape and bandages.

Judd sat down in the circle of football men. Coach Phillips had a kind word for every man. He praised Judd especially for his great work during the last two minutes of the first half. The rube's face glowed with pleasure. For the first time he was beginning to feel the college spirit and a great ambition surged up within him for Bartlett to win the game. But the word which gave him deepest satisfaction and fired him with determination came from Cateye.

"I'm proud of you, pal. Remember—you're fighting for Bartlett and for me!"

A tremendous roar swept across the field as the two teams trotted upon the gridiron for the beginning of the second half.

Judd was given another cheer by the Bartlett stands. He seemed totally oblivious of it all.

Benz shouted to him. "Rube, they're cheering you!"

"Are they?" was the rube's careless rejoinder.

The coach had told him to watch Gordon and Judd intended above all else to follow instructions closely.

Pennington kicked off. Judd watched the ball sail into the air; then realized, with a sudden start, that it was coming to him! He braced himself for the catch. Benz and Potts shot past him.

"Follow us!" they shouted.

The stands were yelling wildly. Judd dodged in behind his interference. He crossed three white chalked lines without trouble. Then the interference crumpled and went down in a heap. Judd saw a big, dark looking face come close to his own, and eager outstretched arms. Instinctively he stuck out his hand and the face vanished. But another and yet another figure loomed up ahead! Judd turned to the left hoping to escape, but he was struck by two tacklers, one from each side. He crawled to his feet with team-mates thumping him on the back, and looked about him. The ball was on Pennington's forty-five yard line. Judd had made a twenty-five yard run!

He had barely time to catch his breath. Neil was yelling signals and the next play came straight through his position. Judd strained every muscle, felt the opposing line give, and saw Benz shoot through for a six yard gain. A succession of plays gave Bartlett first down!

But Pennington was fighting desperately. Although Bartlett rushed the ball to the twenty yard line it went over on downs and Pennington punted out of danger.

The greater part of the quarter was very evenly contested. The ball changed hands many times, neither team being able to gain consistently. Judd's great defensive work, he seeming to be in the heart of every play, helped wonderfully toward breaking the backbone of the Pennington offense.

In the latter part of the quarter, with the ball in Bartlett's possession on the fifty yard line, Benz negotiated a pretty twenty yard run around the left end of the line. While making a sharp turn to avoid a tackle, however, Benz sprained his right ankle. Time was taken out and the ankle bandaged up.

This was a serious blow to the team as Benz had been called into service extensively to punt Bartlett out of danger. He also had been the best ground gainer. The team was again disheartened as they changed goals prior to the playing of the last quarter.

Judd sensed the drooping spirits of his teammates and called out encouragingly: "Never mind that, pals. Let's die fightin'. We're not whipped yet!"

Pole and Potts, right end and tackle, respectively, were both badly bruised and exhausted, but game to the core. Benz was staying in the line-up though he could scarcely stand. Left tackle, Oole, playing next to Judd, had done nothing for the last five minutes, but fill the gap at his position. The rube had been doing the work of two men most of the quarter. The score still stood, Pennington, 13; Bartlett, 0.

The last quarter opened with Harriett's ball on Pennington's thirty yard line. Now that Benz was practically laid out, Neil called upon Patterson and Gary to do the bulk of the work in carrying the ball. Bartlett made a slow but steady advance. Neil, finding that Judd opened big holes on every play, sent most of his plays through that side of the line. Benz limped along, helping what he could as interference.

The stands were quieter now. The great game was three-quarters over. Bartlett had put up a wonderful fight against a much better team, and lost. The Penningtonites were just toying with them now, playing a defensive game.

But, what's this? The stands came to life with a jump and a howl! Neil, quarterback, had taken the ball and dodged through a hole in the line made by Judd. He passed by his interference and the Pennington linemen. As he did this and entered the open field, Gordon, fullback, rushed in and made a clean tackle, hitting Neil so hard that the ball was knocked completely out of his grasp. Judd, who was following up on the play, saw the ball bound away and was after it. Instead of falling upon it he scooped it up and, although tackled by two men, he dragged them the remaining five yards for a touchdown!

"Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! Rube! Rube! Rube!" boomed the Bartlett rooters.

"Bully work, Rube!" shouted Benz. "Say,—did you ever try kicking goals? My ankle's no good,—"

"Well,—I reckon I can if I have to."

Benz held the ball. Judd poised it to his liking. He seemed unconscious of the tremendous ovation the stands were giving him. Plunk! The ball whizzed over the goal posts! Score, Pennington, 13; Bartlett, 7.

"Say!" gasped Neil, weakly. "Take me out! I'm all in!"

The heavy tackle by Gordon had shaken him up badly. Potts and Judd helped Neil to the sidelines.

"Rip 'em up gang! We'll trim 'em yet!" were his parting words.

McCabe, substitute quarter, alive with pep and joy at his chance, jumped in at Neil's place and helped revive the gathering spirits of the team, exhorting every man to do his utmost.

Judd kicked off to Pennington. McCabe, inspired by his first chance, shot off down the field like a flash, eluding the advance guard, and downing the Pennington runner single handed, on his thirty yard line.

Bartlett was now fully alive and fighting hard but Pennington was battling just as stubbornly. Pennington made her first down largely due to the work of Gordon who went through the right side of the line, three successive times, for big gains. Pole and Potts had been giving their last ounce of strength to prevent the Pennington line from breaking through, but to no avail.

A halt was called in the game and two other Bartlett subs, Thorpe and Preston, got their chances.

Now Pennington shifted her attack to the other side of the line and Judd, almost worn out, was called upon to give all the power he had to stop further gaining.

Knapp slipped away for another long run. The ball was on Bartlett's fifteen yard line and eight minutes left to play.

A fresh man was now sent in to oppose Judd, and Pennington's determined drive toward the goal resumed. Judd had eyes only for Gordon. He dropped the big fellow twice as he tore through the line. An attempted forward pass failed. Gordon charged through the line for three yards, but this was not enough. The ball went over to Bartlett on her nine yard line.

Benz limped up, and grasping Judd by the arm, shouted in his ear: "I'll switch positions with you. You drop back and punt that ball out of danger! Punt it hard!"

"But I've never punted in a real game!" protested Judd.

"Never mind that! You're the only man that can do it. Quick. Time's almost up!"

Judd needed no further urging. He took Benz's position.

"Hold that line, fellows!" he begged, as he held out his big hands for the ball.

"Get through and block that punt!" screamed Knapp.

The ball snapped back. The pass came high and Judd was forced to jump for it. He saw a form lurch before him and a pair of hands go up. Then he kicked. His right toe caught the ball squarely and drove it high and far down the field. When it finally fell, McCabe and Thorpe were waiting for the man to receive it and downed him where he stood.

Everyone in the Bartlett stands had risen to their feet. Such playing, such a reversal in form, had never before been seen! Judd's punt had carried sixty yards! The ball was Pennington's on their thirty-one yard line and four minutes left to play!

Pennington made a desperate attempt to gain but Bartlett was growing stronger every second in her effort to recover the ball. Even Gordon's line plunges were repulsed.

Now the Pennington coach relied on strategy to keep the Bartlett eleven from threatening the Red and Blue goal line in the short time left. He sent in a substitute for the left end who advised Knapp to call for a punt. This Knapp prepared to do; Melvin, Pennington punter, dropping back to make the kick.

Benz saw the action with sinking heart. A long punt now with two minutes left to play meant sure defeat for Bartlett, and while they were within striking distance he felt a fighting chance.

"Break up that punt, fellows!" he pleaded, "You've got to get through and block that punt or the game is lost!"

The Pennington line braced for what they felt, the final effort. Judd, fairly outdoing himself, flung guard and tackle aside and fell through. McCabe jumped over his prostrate body and leaped in front of the kicker. The ball struck him full in the face and bounded over his head to the forty yard line. Benz fell on it, joyfully.

McCabe, blinking dazedly from the blow, marshalled his battered forces for the last supreme attempt. Patterson made five yards on an end run. McCabe had his men up on their feet and into the game immediately after the play.