nist
until he resolved within himself to "beat it" for New York on the day of
the game and leave no address. He had received a lump sum in advance for
his coaching, so he had no scruples about deserting the ship.

Her five satellites complained bitterly at having to practice every day.
All of them had received warnings in one subject or another and needed
their time for study. Leslie was adamant. "Just this one game," she said
over and over again. "After that we will settle down to work. I am not
doing as well as I ought in my subjects. But you must play the sophs and
beat them if you can. Don't try any of those new stunts Ramsey showed
you unless you can put them over so cleverly no one will know the
difference. You will have to be careful. You have a touchy proposition
to tackle."

Alarmed at the gradual decrease in their own popularity, the Sans five
practiced assiduously during the week preceding the game. They hoped to
make a good showing on their own merits. The coach glibly assured them
that they were doing wonderful work with the ball. Toward the last of
their practice they began to believe it themselves.

They continued to believe thus until after the first five minutes of the
game on the following Saturday. With the gymnasium filled by a clamorous
aggregation of students, the toss-up was made and the game begun. The
sophomore five took the lead from the first and put the Sans five
through a pace that made them fairly gasp. All thought of cheating
abandoned, they fought desperately to score. They were not allowed to
make a single point. Behind the resolution of the sophs to win they
demonstrated a peculiarly personal antagonistic force which their
opponents felt, dimly at first, keenly afterward. It was the fastest
game that had been played for many a year at Hamilton and it ended in a
complete whitewash for the juniors. They retired from the floor too
utterly vanquished to do other than indulge in a dismal cry in concert
once the door of their dressing room had closed upon them.

Thus Leslie found them. Signally discouraged, she experienced a
momentary desire to cry with them. She fought it down, gruffly advising
her chums not to cry their eyes out in case they might need them later.

"Don't be so simple," was her barren consolation. "You don't see me
bathed in salt weeps, do you? No, sir. Forget basket ball. I swear I'll
never have anything more to do with it. I'll send that Ramsey packing
tomorrow. From