Martha Scroggs.
It's no go. I've been over to see her and she's afraid to tackle it. The
old man's told her that if she runs around with any more of this
disgraceful, disgusting and nine other epitheted college bunch he'll
show her the door. Says he's been worked and he's through. Says he's
going to give you the limit and, if possible, he's going to give you
enough to keep you in all vacation instead of letting you loose on a
defenseless world all summer. That's how strong you are up at the
Scroggs house."

There you were! Siwash College, the pride of six decades, mollycoddled
by an old parody on a gorilla with a grouch against the solar system! We
trained these two weeks in hopes that a chariot of fire would come up
and take the old man down, but there was nothing doing. He remained
abnormally healthy and supernaturally mad. On the morning before the
fatal day we all wrote letters home, explaining that we had secured
elegant jobs in various emporiums over the city and wouldn't be home
until late in the summer. Then we shivered a shake or two apiece and got
ready to retire from this vain world for somewhere between thirty and
ninety days. Just about that time Petey Simmons blew down to the
college, bursting with information. He demanded a meeting of the
Athletic Council at once and of us three sterling athletes as well. We
were all in order in ten minutes.

"Fellows, it's this way," said Petey. "Martha Scroggs is very loyal to
the college, as you all know. She has done her very best with old
Fireworks, but it hasn't made a dent in him. No little old party or
buggy ride is going to get any one out this time. There's just one
chance, she says, and she's taken it. This morning she confessed to her
father that she is engaged to one of the men who is to come up for trial
to-morrow morning. They think the old man will be well enough to
unmuzzle before noon, but he's been acting like a bad case of dog-days
all morning. He's given her twenty-four hours to name the man--and
Martha thinks that by night he'll be resting comfortably enough to
promise to let him off to-morrow. And she has given us the privilege of
choosing the man she's engaged to. Now, it's up to this council to pick
out the lucky chap. It's our only hope, fellows. We'll have one
point-winner anyway--unless the old man eats him alive to-morrow."

Evans and Petersen turned pale--they had real fiancees in college. But
each stepped forward nobly and offered himsel