."
Bug Buler's pleading little voice broke the momentary stillness.

Vic's hand fell nerveless, and Burgess staggered back.

"Was n't you dood to Vic? He would n't hurted you. He never hurted
me." The innocent face and gentle words held a strange power over each
passion-fired man before him.

Five minutes later, Vic Burleigh walked across the gridiron with full
credentials for his place on the team.

The last man to enter the grounds was evidently a tramp, whose slouched
hat half-concealed a dark bearded face.

As Vic Burleigh, with Bug clinging to his finger, hurried by the ticket
window, the crippled student who sold tickets inside the little roofed
box called out:

"Come, stay with me, Bug, till I can go in, too, and I'll buy you
peanuts."

Bug studied a moment. Then with a comfortable little "Umph-humph,"
puffing out his pudgy cheeks with tightly tucked-in lips, he let go of
Vic's finger and trotted over to the ticket box.

The boy let him inside and turned to the window to see the face of the
tramp close to it. The man paid for a ticket, then, leaning forward,
stared eagerly at the open money box. At the same time, the cripple
caught sight of a revolver handle in a belt under the shabby coat.
Trust a college boy for headwork. Instantly he seized little Bug by the
shoulders and set him up on the shelf between the window and the money
box. Bug's hair was a mop of soft ringlets, and his brown eyes and
innocent baby face were appealing. The stranger stared hard at the
child, and with a sort of frightened expression, shot through the gate
and mingled with the crowd.

"Great protection for a cripple," the student thought, as he locked the
money box. "How strong a baby's hand may be sometimes! Vic Burleigh's
beef can win the game out there, but Bug has saved the day at this end
of the line. That tramp seemed scared at the sight of him."

"Funny folks turns to dames," Bug observed.

"Yes, Buggie, the last one in before you came was a young woman with
gray hair, and she had a big dog with her. They don't let in dogs, so
he's waiting outside somewhere."

The last man who did not go in was Bond Saxon, who came late and found
the gates deserted. But lying watchful in the open way, was a Great Dane
dog. Old Bond hesitated. It was his lifetime fault to hesitate. Then
he trotted back home. And, behold, a bottle of whisky was beside his
doorstep. But to his credit for once, he resisted and smashed the bottle
to b