u bet he need! Donald, you're a bloomin', blushin' hero, and we're
proud of you! And when I say blushing I mean it, for you haven't stopped
yet!"

"I guess you'd blush," growled Don, "if it happened to you!"

"I dare say, but it never will. _I'll_ never have the whole school get
up on their feet and cheer me like mad for three solid minutes! And I'll
never have Josh shake my hand off and beam at me and tell me I'm a
credit to the school! Such beautiful things are not for poor little
Tim!"

Don sighed. "Well, it's over with, anyway."

"Over with, nothing! It won't be over with as long as you stay here,
Donald. A hero you are and a hero you remain, old chap. And--and I'm
mighty proud of you, you old humbug! Telling us you didn't do anything
but help lug folks to the relief train, or something!"

"I didn't say that," replied Don defensively.

"You let us think it. Gee, if I'd done anything like that I'd have put
it in the papers!" Tim chuckled and then went on seriously. "You don't
need to worry about the fellows thinking you a quitter any more, do you?
I guess Proctor settled that once and for all, Don. And suppose you'd
run away home the other night. This wouldn't have happened and fellows
would have said you had a yellow streak. I guess it was a mighty lucky
thing you have little Tim to look after you, dearie!"

"I'm glad I didn't," said Don earnestly. "I'd have made a worse mess of
it, shouldn't I? I--I'm sorry you got that punch, though, Timmy."

"Forget it! It was worth it! Being the room-mate of a hero atones for
everything you ever did to me, Donald. I'm that proud----"

But Tim didn't finish, for Don started around the table for him.

* * * * *

At the time this conversation was taking place Mr. Robey and Doctor
Proctor were walking back to the former's room in the village through a
frosty, starlit night.

"You certainly managed to spring a sensation, Gus," observed the coach
as they turned into the road.

"I should say so! Well, that boy deserved all the cheering and praise he
received. And I'm glad I told that story."

"Well, it's got me guessing," responded the other. "Look here, Gus, take
a chap like the one you described tonight. What would you think if he
quit cold a week before the big game?"

"Quit? How do you mean, George?"

"Just that. Develops an imaginary illness. Tells you he doesn't feel
well enough to play, in spite of the fact that he has nothing mo