ther a
dent in our chances, what? And that's just what will happen if you make
me go to Josh with the story!"

"You wouldn't!" challenged Don, but there was scant conviction in his
tone. Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, I'd rather not. I don't want to play on a losing team, and that's
what I'd be doing, but you see I've sort of set my heart on playing
right guard a week from Saturday, Gilbert, and I hate to be
disappointed. Hate to disappoint my folks, too."

"They must be proud of you!"

"They are, take it from me." Harry's smile vanished and he looked ugly
as he went on. "Don't be a fool, Gilbert! You'd do the same thing
yourself if you had the chance. You're playing the hypocrite, and you
know it. I've got you dead to rights and I mean to make the most of it.
If you don't get off the team inside of two days I'll go to Josh and
tell him everything I know. It isn't pretty, maybe, but it's playing
your hand for what there is in it, and that's my way! Now you sit down
again and just think it all over, Gilbert. Take all the time you want.
And remember this, too. If I keep my mouth shut you've got to keep yours
shut. No blabbing to Tim Otis or Clint Thayer or anyone else. This is
just between you and me, old man. Now what do you say?"

"The thing's as crazy as it is rotten, Walton! How am I to get off the
team without having it look funny?"

"And how much do I care whether it looks funny or not? That's up to you.
You can play sick or you can get out there and mix your signals a few
times or you can bite Robey in the leg. I don't give a hang what you do
so long as you do it, and do it between now and Saturday. That's right,
sit down and look at it sensibly. Mull it over awhile. There's no
hurry."

CHAPTER XVI

DON VISITS THE DOCTOR

"WHAT did Walton want of you?" asked Tim a half-hour later, when the
occupants of Number 6 were settled at opposite sides of the table for
study.

"Walton?" repeated Don vaguely. "Oh, nothing especial."

"Nothing especial? Then why the mysterious summons? Did he make any
crack about that little escapade of ours?"

"He mentioned it. Shut up and let me get to work, Tim."

"Mentioned it how? What did he say? Any chance of beating him up? I've
always had a longing, away down deep inside me, Donald, to place my fist
violently against some portion of Walton's--er--facial contour. Say,
that's good, isn't it? Facial contour's decidedly good, Don."

"Fine," responded the oth