or fellow! The strength of his spirit was like the strength of his
body--unbreakable.

He had no fear of pneumonia after the stormy night, for he was used to
hard knocks. And he meant to go again by daylight and explore the rocky
glen and hidden ways, and to find out, if possible, whose face it was
that was behind that cavern wall, whose voice had whispered in his ear,
and what loot was hidden there. For reasons of his own, he had mentioned
this matter to nobody. But the cold, wet days, little Bug's illness,
and the hard study to keep up his class standing, took all of his
time. Especially, the study, that he might not be shut out of the great
football game of the year on Thanksgiving day. Sunrise was stiff in
its scholastic requirements, and conscientious to the last degree. The
football team stood on mental ability and moral honor, no less than on
scientific skill and muscular weight and cunning. Dr. Fenneben watched
Burleigh carefully, for the boy seemed to be always on his heart. The
Dean knew how to mix common sense and justice into his rulings, so the
word was sent quietly from the head office--the suggestion of leniency
in the matter of Burleigh's absence. Burleigh was good for it. It
lay with his professors, of course, to grant or withhold scholarship
ranking, but the Dean would be pleased to have all latitude given in
Burleigh's case.

Bug was better now, and Vic was burning midnight oil in study, for the
hours of practice for the game were doubled.

On the evening before Thanksgiving the coach called Vic aside.

"Everything is safe. Only one report not in, but it will be in
tomorrow." the coach declared. "I asked Professor Burgess about your
standing, and he says your grades are away above average. He's got
to reckon up your absent marks, but that's easy. All the teachers
understand about that. I guess Dean Funnybone fixed 'em. And now, Vic,
the honor of Sunrise rests on you. If you fail us, we're lost. Can I
count on you?"

The tiger light was behind the long black lashes under the heavy black
brows, as Vic shut his white teeth tightly.

"Count on me!" he said, and turning, he left the coach abruptly.

"Hey, there, Burleigh, hold on a minute," Trench, the right guard,
called, as Vic was striding up the steep south slope of the limestone
ridge. "Say, wind a fellow, will you! You infernal, never-wear-out,
human steam engine. I'm on to some things you ought to know. Even a lazy
old scout like I am gets a