you know about Tommy?" he
demanded. "_He's_ the mysterious guy who rescued Georgie Warren last
night. Fact! Mr. Pegram was there and saw him. He was the one who
'phoned the company to shut off the current, you know. Says Tommy was
cool as a cucumber and had all kinds of nerve And this morning he
never let out a peep about it, even when I asked him. Some kid, eh,
Sherm?"

Ward grinned. "The secretive young beggar!" he exclaimed. "By jinks! That
ought to mean a medal, sure! And he a tenderfoot only a week!"

[Illustration: "Aw, quit it, fellows! It wasn't anything"]

He moved forward toward the throng, eager for further details. Ranny did
not stir. His face was blank, and his mind, usually so active, failed
for a second or two to take in the meaning of what he had heard. When at
length he realized the truth, a sense of grudging admiration stole over
him. From one of those present at the affair last night he had had an
unusually vivid account of the accident. He understood the risks the
hitherto unknown rescuer had run, and fully appreciated his nerve and
resourcefulness. For a flashing second he was filled with an impulse
to follow Ward's example and add his brief word of congratulation to
the chorus, but the impulse was only momentary. In a second or two he
had crushed it back, passed the noisy group, and headed toward the
football field alone.

How absurd he had been even to think of such a thing! The details had
probably been greatly exaggerated. Doubtless, Tompkins had merely
blundered into the affair and done the right thing through sheer fool
luck. At any rate, he still remained precisely the same individual whose
presence Ranny had considered a blot on the appearance of the troop and
likely to injure its "tone." There seemed to him no reason why this
latest development should alter his treatment of the fellow a particle.

Ward and the rest reached the field not long after Phelps, and no time
was lost in commencing practice. Tompkins was started off with the
scrub, an organization composed mostly of scouts who were too small or
lazy or indifferent or unskilful to make the regular eleven, together
with a few outsiders who had been persuaded into lending their aid
merely for the fun of the game. It was a motley crowd, and Sherman had
his hands full holding them together. One or two, to be sure, were
stimulated by the hope, which grew fainter with each day of practice,
that they might supplant some member of the