Jack Nelson was right about Barker; Berlin came back “with his head up.” To the surprise of his teammates, he was on hand for football practice that night, having caught the afternoon train from Clearport. When some of the boys commented on the shortness of his visit to Merwin and hinted broadly that he had made that visit for the purpose of avoiding the height of a severe storm which had threatened to fall upon the heads of all concerned in that piece of skylarking at which he was the master mover, he made an indignant denial. Even Crane, who had vowed he would give Barker a piece of his mind, was silenced by Berlin’s resentment and anger over the insinuation that he had shown the white feather.

Barker was not one of the few who betrayed a disposition to make the best of the fact that Grant had turned the joke upon his tormentors; on the contrary, this knowledge seemed to pierce his very soul with a red-hot iron, and he became still more vindictive and vicious toward the lad from Texas, declaring he would yet make the fellow laugh out of the other side of his mouth. Nor was his bitterness softened in any degree when he was told of Grant’s silence regarding the breaking of the skeleton.

“He didn’t dare peach, that’s all,” said Berlin. “If he’d had the nerve, he’d blown the whole business.”

A secret known by many persons may scarcely be called a secret, and almost invariably it is sure to “leak.” For reasons, Roger Eliot had not been taken into the confidence of the hazers, yet it was not long ere he learned what had happened on that lively night, and in his quiet way he took occasion to jest a trifle at the expense of the fellows concerned. They wondered who had told him, and Rollins expressed the belief that Grant must be “tattling and boasting.”

With the approach of the date for the Wyndham game, which was to conclude the season, football almost wholly absorbed the attention of the boys. Every effort was being made to strengthen the weak points on the team, for Oakdale still hoped to defeat the former champions and conclude a remarkable series of triumphs by winning the championship for the first time in the history of the academy. Although he pretended to be optimistic, the coach kept the players keyed to a fine point, never once permitting them to get the impression that the game would be anything but a stern battle from start to finish in which the failure of a single fellow to do his level best might prove disastrous.

In secret consultation with Eliot, Winton owned up to apprehension concerning two of the players, and repeated over and over that even one more good man might strengthen the eleven enough to bring about the desired victory. Although Grant’s name was not mentioned again, Roger felt sure the coach had him in mind, but Eliot knew well enough there was no prospect of altering the fellow’s decision about playing. Furthermore, the time had already grown too short for the new boy to put in the practice he would need to become at all efficient.

The game, to be played in Wyndham, was scheduled for a Saturday. On Friday, at the beginning of the afternoon session, Prof. Richardson startled the school by delivering a grim lecture on the evils of hazing. Beneath his calm but scathing words some of the boys writhed visibly, despite their efforts to maintain a semblance of indifference. They knew, at the very start, the cause of this lecture, and concluded at once that in some manner the principal had learned the particulars of the hazing affair in which they had been concerned. As he went on the master proceeded to cite special instances in which hazing had resulted in the wrecking of the mental or physical health of the victims. He denounced it as disgraceful, unmanly and brutal, adding that he had been mortified and shocked to learn that various of his most respected boys had been concerned in such a piece of work.

“A few days ago,” said the professor, “I had something to say to you about the breaking of the skeleton in the laboratory, which at that time I supposed to be an act of vandalism. I have since learned that this skeleton was used by the hazers to frighten the unfortunate subject of their pitiful sport, and that it was broken while being thus used, and then returned to the academy. I declared, should I learn who had been concerned, that I would be severe in my punishment; but that declaration was made without a full understanding of the circumstances. I am now in complete possession of the facts, and I know the name of every boy who took part in that disgraceful frolic. The wisest men often feel at liberty to change their minds, and, without any claim to special wisdom, I have changed mine. I shall not inflict immediate chastisement upon the offenders. However, I shall hereafter keep close and constant watch upon them, and any further offense of theirs coming to my notice shall not pass, I promise, without merited discipline. I am not so old that I do not understand that boys will be boys, but there are plenty of clean and manly sports in which you may indulge to your heart’s content without danger of bringing to yourselves pangs of regret, and without fear of inflicting shame upon your parents and friends by your behavior. Although I have been exceedingly mild in my denunciation of your conduct, I wish you to know that I feel highly incensed and grieved and regretful over it.”

Without exception, they were intensely relieved when he had finished. Few of them ventured to exchange glances, but behind his geography Hunk Rollins grinned and winked at one or two of the guilty chaps who chanced to look in his direction.

After school that night, ere proceeding to the football field for final signal practice, half a dozen lads gathered behind the gymnasium.

“Somebody pup-peached,” said Phil Springer.

“Well, whoever the pup is, he’s a peach, that’s all I have to say,” observed Chipper Cooper.

“Who d’you s’pose it was, fellers?” questioned Sile Crane.

“My deduction is,” said Sleuth Piper, “that it was a certain party named Grant.”

“Of course it was Grant,” agreed Berlin Barker. “No one else would do it.”

“If it was him,” said Tuttle, “why didn’t he come right out with it when the prof gave us that first game of talk about busting the skeleton and offered to let off without punishment any one who would own up?”

“Because he’s a sneak and a coward!” exclaimed Berlin. “He was afraid to get up before the whole school and squeal, but he went to Prof. Richardson privately and told the whole business. I’ll bet my life I’m right.”

“Of course you are,” eagerly put in Rollins—“you’re dead right, Berlin. You’ve got the cheap skate sized up correct.”

“If you are right,” said Cooper, “we’d all better show Mr. Grant what we think of a sneak. I’m in favor of sending him to Coventry. Let’s cut him out, let him alone, have nothing to do with him; let’s not even speak to him. If every fellow will do that, he’ll enjoy himself hugely—I don’t think.”

“It’s a good idea,” nodded Barker.

“Maybe there’s one feller yeou can’t git to agree to it,” drawled Crane. “Ben Stone’s ruther chummy with Rod Grant.”

“There was a time when Stone wasn’t very popular around here,” reminded Barker.

“Oh, yes,” nodded Sile; “but yeou don’t want to forgit that he come out on top, just the same.”

“Look here,” sneered Berlin, turning on the lanky fellow, “if you want to take up with a sneak and a coward like this boasting Texan why don’t you say so? If you want to be friendly with a skulking, white-livered creature who peaches on you behind your back you can do so.”

“Naow yeou hold right on!” snapped Crane. “I ain’t said nothin’ about bein’ friendly with him myself, have I? We all know haow we used Stone and what come of it. Bern Hayden was at the head of that business, and he’s got out of Oakdale and gone to school somewheres else. I just mentioned the fact that Stone was ruther friendly with Grant. I s’pose that’s natteral, too, seein’ as he recollects what happened to himself when he first hit this taown. We don’t know yet for dead sartain that ’twas Grant who give us away, and so I’m in favor of goin’ slow, that’s all.”

“We don’t have to have proof against him,” retorted Barker. “Nobody else would tell. Besides that, he’s shown himself to be a quitter and a cheap dub. A fellow who hasn’t the sand to play football when his team needs him is a——”

“’Sh!” hissed Piper. “Here’s Eliot.”

“Come on, fellows,” called the captain of the team, looking round the corner. “What are you doing here? The coach is waiting for us.”

They followed him to the field.

A slight spitting fall of snow, beginning early the following morning, filled the boys with apprehension, but it did not result in a storm; and at ten o’clock the members of the team and the coach set out on their long ride over the frozen roads to Wyndham. A group of boys and girls who could not make the trip to witness the game were assembled at the square in front of the postoffice, and gave the buckboard load of husky youngsters a rousing send-off. As the buckboard swung down the main street Piper espied a sturdy, solitary figure in front of Stickney’s store.

“There he is!” exclaimed Sleuth. “There’s Grant watching us!”

“The cheap, blabbing coward!” cried Barker.

Ben Stone, sitting in front of Berlin, twisted round in his heavy overcoat.

“Look here, Barker,” he said indignantly, “if you’re referring to my friend Grant, take my advice and use different language in my hearing.”

“Oh, ho!” sneered Berlin. “Your friend Grant, eh? Well, you must be proud of your friend!”

Stone’s face was flushed, and he would have made a hot retort had not Eliot promptly interfered.

“Drop it, both of you,” commanded Roger. “This is no time for a quarrel. We’ve got a football game on our hands.”

“All right, captain,” said Ben, straightening round. “I’m mum.”

Barker laughed mirthlessly, and the buckboard rumbled across the bridge.

Little did those boys dream that while they were on their way to the scene of the contest Rodney Grant made arrangements with the telephone operator in Wyndham to secure the earliest possible report of the game. And while they were fighting desperately on the field Grant sat within instant call of the phone, waiting to bear of the result. When at last the exultant Wyndham operator transmitted over the wire the intelligence that Oakdale had been defeated by a score of 10 to 6, the boy from Texas returned to the home of Priscilla Kent in a deeply dejected frame of mind.

“I’m sorry,” he said to himself. “It’s too bad.”