"

"Clever bird, this fellow, Knute," kidded Milt. "I'd place him next to
Coach Brock."

Arriving at Ashby, Phil and Milt parked their car on a side street and
were surprised to find a crowd waiting to get seats.

"Hello--they're doing some real business. Must be a great show!"
exclaimed Milt, with a wink at Phil.

"Ten minutes after seven," said Speed, a bit disturbed.

"Oh, there's plenty of time," said Phil, "but I've got so in the habit
of sitting that I hate to stand."

It was seven-thirty before the three patrons from Medford were escorted
to seats and then it was to discover that the Knute Rockne feature had
just finished.

"Tough luck," Milt whispered. "But it'll start the next show. We're
all right."

The three then settled down to enjoy the feature picture and time sped
quickly. It was ten after nine that the Knute Rockne short subject
next flashed on the screen and its interest was compelling from the
start. The two-reeler was over at nine-forty, much to Speed's concern
when he discovered the time.

"Holy smoke!" he cried. "We've got twenty minutes to drive twenty
miles. You fellows'll never make it!"

"We'll try!" declared Phil, optimistically, as they rushed for the car.
"Gosh, where did that time go to?"

"Won't make much diff if we are a few minutes late," said Milt,
reassuringly. "Coach won't hold you to account on this."

"But he made a point of saying we had to be back on time if we went,"
Speed recalled.

"Sure--he's got to keep his discipline up," rejoined Phil, sliding
behind the wheel and working the starter. "What's the matter with this
thing? Have I flooded the carburetor?"

The engine had refused to respond.

"That's probably what's the trouble," diagnosed Milt. "Turn off your
gas entirely."

"Good grief!" groaned Speed, "Get going, you guys! I don't want to be
any later than I have to!"

"Keep your shirt on!" soothed Milt. "There she spits! She'll catch
hold in a minute. This little old bus hasn't failed us yet."

Another valuable minute shot past ... and another.

"Say--there goes the interurban!" said Medford's star halfback,
nervously. "It makes Medford by ten-thirty. I'd better catch it!"

"Don't be foolish!" cried Milt, grabbing Speed and holding him in the
car. "We'll be back in Medford before that traction! It's a concrete
road most all the way!"

"Here we go!" announced Phil as the engine finally took hold.
"Now--just as soon as we get be