The warm weather continued on Friday. Between recitations The Prospect and entrances of the halls swarmed with boys, all intent on the discussion of just one subject, the morrow’s game. There was a wide difference of opinion as to the outcome of it. Fellows who two weeks ago had predicted a Yardley victory were now shaking their heads gloomily and talking defeat, while others, erstwhile pessimists, were now jubilantly prophesying a glorious triumph for the Blue. Perhaps there was somewhere a fellow who managed to put the game out of his thoughts and attend to his duty in the form of study, but if so he wasn’t in evidence. Yardley frankly consigned lessons to the limbo of things left undone, and the faculty wisely shut its eyes.

In the afternoon the Cross-Country Team trotted over the course for the last time before the race, and the Football Team held what was expected to be and what would ordinarily have been its final signal drill. But to the surprise of the fellows who gathered in the gymnasium that afternoon the coach announced that it had been decided to make a change in the signal code. Payson said he regretted the necessity, but made no explanation of the reason.

“I’ll make it as easy as possible, fellows,” he said. “There isn’t time to learn thoroughly a new set of signals, and so we will change the code by making the second number the fake instead of the first. That is, the second digit of the first number will indicate the man, the second number will be a fake, and the second digit of the third number will indicate the hole. Thus 28, 76, 93 means that full-back carries the ball for a plunge through guard-tackle hole on the left, the 76 being the fake number. In the same way, on a kick the signal will be ‘Kick formation, So-and-so back; 59, 107, 22, the first number, 59, holding the kick digit, 9, and the other numbers being fillers. Just remember that the first number indicates the player instead of the second, that the second is the fake, and that the third indicates the hole. Now, as to special plays. The key number has been any number over 500 for those, given as the second number in the signal. We’ll change that, I think, and make the key number any number over 200 and have it the first number in the series. Thus the signal for the delayed forward pass to the left will be 217, 21, 175, the last two numbers being merely fillers. You’ll have to study this, fellows, between now and to-morrow afternoon, for there mustn’t be any mix-up on signals. There’ll be another drill here this evening at eight o’clock. And between now and then I want every one of you to plot out on a sheet of paper one or more plays. Indicate each position with circles or squares, label each one with letters, as ‘R. E.’ for right end, and so on, trace the progress of the ball, show how the interference moves, and underneath give the correct signals for the play. Also be sure and sign your name in the upper right-hand corner of the sheet. Don’t neglect this matter, if you please. I want to know that each one of you is familiar with the signals. Bring the papers here this evening and hand them to Mr. Davis. All right now; let’s see those plays!”

There was much speculation and not a little dissatisfaction among the fellows after the drill was over. Simms especially was bitter and sarcastic, but Simms’s nerves were pretty taut just then and he may be excused some show of annoyance.

“Just when we get the signals down pat he goes and changes them,” said Simms in the locker room later. “And what for, I’d like to know? Putting the fake number in the middle is a fool piece of business, I think.”

Captain Merriwell, to whom Simms addressed his remarks, was noncommital. “I suppose Payson has a good reason for it,” he replied. “It isn’t likely he’d do it unless he had, Bert. You can bet he doesn’t want to risk a mix-up on signals to-morrow unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Well, the only reason for changing signals at the last hour that I can think of,” muttered Simms, “is that the other fellow has got on to them; and I don’t believe that!”

“I think he will explain this evening or to-morrow,” said Merriwell soothingly. “Meanwhile we’ve got to make the best of it and learn the new signals.”

“That’s well enough for you,” replied Simms bitterly. “You haven’t got to have the whole thing at the end of your tongue to-morrow. If I make a mistake I’ll get blamed for it.”

“Then don’t make any mistakes,” answered Merriwell quietly.

Simms stared at him a moment, outraged, and finally said, “Humph!” and relapsed into silence.

But Coach Payson didn’t explain that evening, or ever; at least, not to the team at large. After the evening’s session, however, he and Merriwell and Davis went over to the captain’s room, and there the only member of the trio who was in ignorance of the reason for the eleventh-hour change, Manager Davis, was enlightened.

“Now,” said Payson, when they were seated, “let’s see those papers, Davis.”

One by one he looked them over, comparing each with a much-creased sheet of buff paper which he extracted from his bill-book and laid beside him. Davis looked on curiously. Now and then Payson paused as he turned the papers over and glanced doubtfully at the buff sheet. Finally, when he had reached almost the bottom of the pile, he said “Hm!” very softly. A second sheet of buff paper was in front of him and he was studying it attentively. Presently, as though satisfied, he handed it to Captain Merriwell, following it with the creased sheet. The latter had been folded several times and was soiled, as though it had passed through many hands. Merriwell, frowning, compared one sheet with the other. Finally he nodded.

“I can’t believe, though, that he’d do a thing like that, sir,” said Merriwell troubledly.

“I can scarcely believe it myself,” replied the coach, “but there is the evidence. Show them to Davis. Davis, should you say that those two diagrams had been made by the same person?”

“Certainly,” replied the manager after a brief survey of them. “There can’t be any doubt of that, can there?” He looked at the name written in the corner of the fresher sheet. “But when did Burtis do this other one, sir?”

“That’s what we don’t know. Have you got that letter there, Merriwell?”

For reply Merriwell opened a drawer in the table, searched a moment and then handed a folded sheet of writing paper across to Perky. The latter opened it and read as follows:

Davis laid down the letter and stared in bewilderment.

“Merriwell got that this morning,” said the coach. “We decided that the best way to trace the authorship of that document was to get all the players to make similar diagrams. There’s one peculiar thing about that first paper, Davis. You’ll notice that Burtis—supposing he did it, and I can’t see any reason to doubt it—labeled the positions with small letters. See what I mean? He has written, or, rather, printed, ‘l. h. b.’ in what printers call lower case, instead of ‘L. H. B.’ in capitals. Now, if you look through all the diagrams submitted to-night, and every fellow handed one in, you’ll find that Burtis is the only one who does that. Then, too, there is the evidence of the paper. Both sheets apparently were torn from the same block. The paper is the same, a deep buff in color. There’s one other paper there that is buff—I think it’s Brinspool’s—but it is lighter. Now, two and two usually make four, Davis.”

“Yes, but—but why should he do it? Why, the fellows were talking of him for captain!”

“Too bad! It’s beyond me; I can’t see any motive. The only explanation I can think of is that some Broadwood fellow got hold of him and fooled him. I’m not willing to think that Burtis did this realizing what it meant. It—it’s absolutely contrary to my conception of the boy’s character, Davis.”

“It was Gibson!” declared Perky. “I’ll bet you anything it was that fellow Gibson! You remember the day he came over to spy on us? We fooled him then, and so he got back at us. But I didn’t know Burtis knew him.”

“It’s a funny affair,” said Merriwell thoughtfully. “Anyway, there’s no use raising a fuss until after the game. We’re in a bad enough fix as it is. We’ve got to work like the very dickens to win to-morrow, and if we let this thing get out the team will be upset, probably, and we’ll get licked as sure as shooting. You aren’t going to say anything to him about it now, are you, sir?”

“No, I think not. Better let him alone. I don’t believe he is morally guilty, fellows. And we need him to-morrow if we ever did.”

“There’s one thing that puzzles me,” observed Davis. “It doesn’t seem as if the writing was in the same hand as the printing.”

“Yes, I noticed that. But very often a man writes differently with a pen than with a pencil. Besides, you can’t very well compare printing with writing. Anyway, whoever did it managed to give a very pretty exposure of our signal code. They’ve even got two special plays down there.”

“It’s a rotten piece of business,” exclaimed Davis. “And I’ll bet you anything that chap Gibson is at the bottom of it. Look here, Mr. Payson, suppose you let me have a talk with Burtis. Maybe I could find out about it without letting him know.”

But Payson shook his head and Merriwell dissented with a frown.

“Better not,” said the coach. “Wait until after the game. There’s enough to contend with now, Davis; don’t let us have any more upsets. We’ll let Burtis play his game to-morrow, giving him the benefit of the doubt, and ask an explanation later. It’s a good thing we are all agreed that he isn’t really guilty, fellows, for if we weren’t we’d have no right to let him play; and if he didn’t play”—Payson shrugged his broad shoulders—“we’d be in a hole, to say the least. Merriwell, you keep this truck until it’s wanted. Put it away somewhere where it won’t be seen. Great Scott, I wish this hadn’t happened!”

“So do I,” muttered Merriwell.

“Will the fellows know the new signals all right, sir?” asked Davis anxiously.

“I think so. The change is slight. You see, I’m taking Raynor’s word for it that they haven’t tried to profit by that document. If I thought they had I’d have changed the whole code over; made a new set of signals right through. As it is, I’ve only altered them enough to safeguard us. Well, I must be off. Get to bed, Merriwell, and try to forget the whole thing. After all, we’re no worse off than we were, or but very little. I must drop in on Simms a minute. He’s the one who is probably having fits. Good night. Good night, Davis. Not a word about this!”

“Not a word, sir. Good night.”

“Look here, Charlie,” said Perky, after the door had closed behind the coach, “I just don’t believe he did it!”

“Burtis?” Merriwell shrugged his shoulders wearily. “There’s the evidence.” He nodded at the littered table.

“Then he was fooled; someone got at him! He—he isn’t that sort, and you know it. Look here, they can’t make him captain with this thing hanging over his head, Charlie!”

“I don’t think he had a show anyway, Perky. Crandall’s the man for the job. I shall propose Crandall.”

“We-ell, yes, Howard’s all right, but——”

“But what?”

“Well, there are a lot of the fellows want Burtis,” replied Perky frankly. “It’s too bad.”

“Oh, never mind about who’s the next captain,” exclaimed Merriwell crossly. “What we’ve got to do now is to win to-morrow’s game! Good night!”