we'll explain to the Coach! Have a chocolate
bar--there's one in my coat in the car."

"I can't eat anything," was Speed's glum rejoinder. "My stomach's on
the blink."

A flashing headlight suddenly appeared from around a curve in the road.

"Heigho!" exclaimed Phil. "Here comes the interurban!"

"Quick--your flashlight!" cried Speed, with sudden resolution. "I'll
flag it!"

Medford's football star dashed forward but Milt fumbled the flashlight
in handing it over and by the time Speed got hold of it the interurban
was whizzing past.

"I knew I ought to have gone home by traction!" he lamented, loudly.
"Something told me not to go back with you guys! This is terrible!"

"Listen, Speed--you're getting all worked up over this," consoled Milt.
"You crawl in the car there and curl up on the seat and get your sleep.
That's why the Coach wants you to turn in at ten--so you'll get the
right amount of sleep. If he should find out about this, we'll tell
him you got your sleep just the same!"

"Sleep?" bellowed a greatly aggravated! Speed. "I haven't slept for
four nights as it is! How can I sleep now?"

"Hey, Phil!" cried Milt, insinuatingly. "I'll fix this bird. Where's
the monkey wrench?"

It was a quarter to one o'clock before a familiar looking runabout
appeared in front of the MacDaniel Dormitory and the door popped open
to let a highly exasperated and greatly worried athletic figure out.
There was not a sign of another soul upon the campus, nor was there a
light visible save the flickering street lamps.

"Coast is clear!" whispered Milt. "Awfully sorry, old boy, but nobody
will be any the wiser. You sneak in to your room and...!"

"Hello, there!" sounded a voice. "Is that you, Speed?"

"Blue murder!" exclaimed an agonized fellow, under his breath, as he
cringed against the side of the car. "That's Coach now!"

"It can't be!" said Phil, punching Milt knowingly with his elbow.
"What would Coach be doing out this time of night?"

There were the sounds of footsteps approaching.

"Make a break for it!" advised Milt, hoarsely.

"I can't," moaned Speed. "I--I'm caught--cold!"

"Well!" addressed Coach Brock, as he got within real hailing distance.
"Is this the time for you to be turning in? Who are these chaps with
you?... Oh, yes--I see. Doran and Gleeson. Where have you been?"

"It's all our fault, Coach," Phil spoke up. "Milt and I took Speed
over to see the Rockne picture at Ashby an