t of the game."

"No, you won't!" exclaimed Jack with a laugh. "You'll come out to
practice, and Bert and I will watch Sam as a cat does a mouse. He'll
get no chance to try any of his tricks."

Thus urged, Tom gave in, and donned his suit. The practice was hard
and snappy that afternoon against the scrub. The regular eleven, made
desperate by the recent drubbings administered to it, played fiercely,
with the result that several touchdowns were scored.

"This is something like!" exulted the coach.

"Yes, if they'll only keep it up and play like this on Saturday,"
assented Captain Morse Denton. "But I'm afraid of a slump."

"Oh, I guess not. Say! Look at Tom go through with the ball."

"Yes. He's playing better. I'm sorry he and Sam are on the outs. I'm
always afraid of a clash."

"Yes, that's likely. See him go! Say! if he'll play that way Saturday
we'll wipe up the gridiron with Holwell."

"Let's hope so!" exclaimed the captain.

Indeed, Tom was playing as he had seldom played before. And Sam was
passing the ball to him accurately. There was not a fumble.

Perhaps it was because he realized that he was being narrowly-watched,
not only by Tom but by Bert and Jack as well. In fact Jack, at the
beginning of practice, had taken the opportunity to whisper into Sam's
ear:

"None of your funny business now!"

"What do you mean?" asked Sam with a show of innocence.

"Oh, you know very well what I mean," insisted Jack. "If you fumble
the ball when you're passing it to me, or Tom or Bert, I'll see you
afterward, and it won't be a pleasant interview, either," and Jack
playfully dug Sam in the ribs.

"Here! What are you doing?" demanded the quarterback.

"That's a sample of what to expect," said Jack grimly.

And so the practice went on, hard, and fast, and the hearts of the
coach, captain and players were glad, for they felt that Elmwood Hall
was coming back into her own. Even hazing, which went on
intermittently, ceased in favor of football practice.

Meanwhile nothing more had been heard about the hay fire, the poisoning
of the horses, nor about Sam's trouble with the old farmer. In regard
to the latter, Sam had boastingly explained to his chums, whence it
sifted to our friends, that he had gotten the best of Appleby.

"The old codger!" Sam exclaimed. "I didn't hurt his land anyhow. It
was so all-fired dark that I couldn't see where I was going."

"What were you doing over there?" aske