, "you'll
now have to revise all your signals. It will be a huge undertaking
between now and Saturday. If you wish to postpone the game, I'll
consent. Our coach has authorized me to say this."

"I think not," replied Dick, "though on behalf of the team I thank
you. I'll have to speak to our coach, and Mr. Morton is in his
classroom, occupied until the close of the school session."

"I'll meet you anywhere, Mr. Prescott, after school is over."

"You're mighty good, Mr. Jarvis," murmured Dick gratefully. "Now,
by the way, if we're to catch the sneak who has done this dastardly
thing, we've got to work fast. We ought not to let the traitor
suspect anything until we're ready to act. Mr. Jarvis, do you
mind leaving here promptly, and going to 'The Morning Blade' office?
If you tell Mr. Pollock that you're waiting for me, he'll give
you a chair and plenty to read."

"I'm off, then," smiled Jarvis, rising and reaching for his hat.

"I want to shake hands with you, Jarvis, and to thank you again
for your manly conduct in bringing this thing straight to me."

"Why, that's almost insulting," retorted Jarvis quizzically.
"Why shouldn't an American High School student be a gentleman?
Wouldn't you have done the same for me, if the thing had been
turned around?"

"Of course," Dick declared hastily. "But I'm glad that this fell
into your hands. If we had gone into the game, relying on this
signal code-----"

"We'd have burned you to a crisp on the gridiron," laughed Jarvis.
"But what earthly good would it do our school to win a game that
we got by clasping hands with a sneak and a traitor? Can any
school care to win games in that fashion? But now, I'm off for
'The Blade's office---if your Mr. Pollock doesn't throw me out."

"He won't," Dick replied, "I'm a member of 'The Blade' staff."

"Don't go back into assembly room with a face betraying as much
as yours does," whispered Captain Jarvis, over his shoulder.

"Thank you for the tip," Dick responded.

When young Prescott stepped back into the general assembly room
his face, though not all the color had returned to it, wore a
smiling expression. He stepped jauntily, with his head well up,
as he moved to his seat.

For fifteen minutes or more Dick made a pretense of studying his
trigonometry hard. Then, picking up a pen with a careless gesture,
he wrote slowly, with an appearance of indifference, this note:

_"Dear Mr. Morton: Something of the utmost impo