sport, a
benefactor to the school--every complimentary pseudonym imaginable--and
had glowed with pleasure beneath the avalanche of flattery. As the big
car with its rollicking occupants had spun along the highway, many a
passer-by had caught the merry mood of the cheering group and waved a
smiling salutation in response to their shouts.

In the meanwhile, exhilarated by the novelty of the escapade, Steve had
increased the speed until the red car fairly shot over the level
macadam, its blurred outlines lost in the scarlet of the autumn foliage.
Then suddenly when the last half-mile was reached and Torrington
village, the goal of the pilgrimage, was in sight, quite without warning
the panting monster had stopped and all attempts to urge it farther were
of no avail. There it stood, its motionless engine sending out odors of
hot varnish and little shimmering waves of heat.

Immediately a hush had descended upon the boisterous company. There was
a momentary pause, followed by a clamor of advice. When, however, it
became evident that there was no prospect of restoring the disabled
machine to action, one after another of the frightened schoolboys had
dropped out over the sides of the car and after loitering an instant or
two with a sort of shamefaced indecision, at the suggestion of Bud
Taylor they had all set out for the town.

"Tough luck, old chap!" Bud had called over his shoulder. "Mighty tough
luck! Wish we had time to wait and see what's queered the thing; but the
game is called at two-thirty, you know, and we have only about time to
make it. We'll try and hunt up a garage and send somebody back to help
you. So long!"

And away they had trooped without so much as a backward glance, leaving
Stephen alone on the country road, worried, mortified, and resentful.
There was no excuse for their heartless conduct, he fumed indignantly.
They were not all on the eleven. Five of the team had come over in Tim
Barclay's Ford, so that several of the fellows Steve had brought were
merely to be spectators of the game. At least Bud Taylor, his especial
crony, was not playing. He might have remained behind. How selfish
people were, and what a fleeting thing was popularity! Why, half an hour
ago he had been the idol of the crowd! Then Bud had shouted: "Come
ahead, kids, let's hoof it to Torrington!" and in the twinkling of an
eye the tide had turned, the mob had shifted its allegiance and gone
tagging off at the heels of a new leader.