y ten--Oh! Help! Officer, arrest this man!"

"Huh," said Clint, "that's a better joke than you ever sprung. Where are
you going?"

"To get that nice pewter mug over there and then to the gym for a
shower. Come along and then I'll go over with you and watch that
wonderful team of yours bite holes in the turf."

Some of the fellows who remained demanded a speech when Amy accepted the
trophy from Westcott.

"Fellow-citizens," responded Amy, "I can only say that this is the
proudest moment of my young and blameless life. Thank you, one and all.
Where's the flannel stocking that goes with this, Harry?"

The bag couldn't be found, however, and Amy bore away his prize without
it. They paused at a neighbouring court to watch for a moment a
white-clad quartette of boys who were battling for the doubles
championship. "Semi-final round," explained Amy. "The winners meet
Scannel and Boynton tomorrow. It'll be a good match. What's the
score, Hal?"

[Illustration: "Funny you didn't make a success of it!" chuckled Clint]

"Brooks and Chase have won one set and they're three--love on this,
Amy," replied the boy addressed.

"Thought so," said Amy. "I picked them to meet Scannel and Boynton. And
I'll bet they beat 'em, too."

"Why didn't you enter the doubles?" asked Clint.

"Oh, I had enough to do looking after the thing," replied Amy, "and
getting through the singles."

Clint smiled. "I reckon the real reason was that you didn't want to hog
the show and take both prizes, eh?"

"No fear of that, I guess," answered the other evasively. "Aren't you
coming over to the gym with me?"

"I'll wait for you over yonder," said Clint. "Conklin says I mustn't use
this leg very much. Hurry up and come back. I'll be on the stand
over there."

The second was still practising when Clint reached the seats, some of
them tackling the dummy in the corner of the field and others, backs
and ends these, catching punts. Over on their own gridiron the 'varsity
was hard at it, the two squads trotting and charging about under the
shrill commands of Marvin and Carmine. Presently the rattle and bump of
the dummy ceased and the tackling squad returned to the gridiron and
"Boots" cleared the field for signal work. The backs and ends came
panting to the bench, and Captain Turner, spying Clint in solitary
grandeur, walked over to the foot of the stand.

"How's the knee, Thayer?" he asked anxiously.

"Much better, thanks," replied Clint, more optimi