Have you seen him lately?"

"Not in three days. Have you?"

"No. I called around at his dorm yesterday but he wasn't in. About time we got together again. Speed's a great guy."

"And a mighty sweet football player," complimented Phil. "Well, here we are--outside the sanctum of the man who controls the destinies of Medford pigskin chasers. Shall I rap?"

"Sure--don't you see it says 'private'?"

A voice bade the callers to "come in!" and Phil and Milt presently found themselves standing before the genial-faced coach.

"Sit down!" Coach Brock invited, motioning to chairs. And when the two wondering visitors were seated, he came straight to the point with: "I understand you fellows know Speed Bartlett very well?"

Phil and Milt exchanged glances.

"Well ... er ... yes, sir ... we ...!"

"We're _pretty_ good friends," temporized Milt. "Why--what's ... er ... happened?... Is Speed in trouble?"

Coach Brock smiled, amusedly. "Yes, as a matter of fact, he is. Not necessarily serious trouble," he hastened to a.s.sure as Phil and Milt looked their concern, "but I want to guard against it getting any worse."

"Good grief!" exclaimed Milt, anxiously. "What's Speed done?"

"We haven't been out with him for some time," volunteered Phil, "so we wouldn't know anything."

"It's nothing like that," declared the Coach. "Speed's simply going to pieces over thoughts of the Hamilton game. I've got to break him of this or he's going to have himself in such a mental stew by game-time that he'll be next to useless."

"Oh--then you want us to brighten him up?" divined Phil.

Coach Brock shook his head. "No, there's only one thing that can have any effect upon Speed," he said, decisively. "He's got to be told that he can't play on Sat.u.r.day. This will bitterly disappoint him, of course, but it will relieve him at the same time. But the fly in the ointment is how to make Speed believe that he's really not going to play. He knows very well that I wouldn't remove the star of the team without definite reason. Obviously, then, the only way we can put one over on Speed is to catch him breaking one of the strict rules I've laid down for members of the squad."

"Now I 'get' you," cried Phil, eagerly. "You want us to help get Speed in bad!"

"That's precisely it," agreed the coach. "And here's how you can do it. Take him over to Ashby in your car to catch the early evening show. There's a Knute Rockne two-reeler showing at the picture house that I'll recommend be seen. As you fellows know, my orders are for every man on the squad to be in his room and in bed by ten o'clock.

Ashby is a good twenty miles from here and, after stalling for time you start back to Medford with just time enough left to get Speed to his dorm within the ten o'clock law. Unfortunately, however, your car breaks down and you are delayed getting back until after midnight."

"Quite a thrilling plot," agreed Milt.

"It calls for some real acting," opined Phil. "And if Speed ever caught on he'd darn near kill us!"

"Aren't you willing to die for your college?"

smiled Coach Brock. "I'll be within sight of the dorm so that I can manage to be pa.s.sing when you drive up, several hours late, with Speed.

What happens after that will be regrettable but hardly any fault of yours. Automobiles do break down ... even in the best of families!"

Phil and Milt grinned.

"But what if Speed doesn't care to see this picture?" queried Milt.

"I think he'll jump at the chance after the send-off I give to it this afternoon at practice," said the coach. "But I'll insist that all fellows who do make arrangements to take in the show, make a point of getting back by their accustomed hour."

"Okay!" accepted Phil. "We'll tackle Speed on the proposition after practice ... tell him we've just learned of the football program ...

and that we're leaving in time to catch the seven o'clock show.

Wouldn't he like to go along?"

"That's right," Coach Brock approved. "You can explain to Speed that the seven o'clock show will be over around nine o'clock which gives you a whole hour to drive the twenty miles back. Let me know, for sure, if you can make arrangements, and I'll be ready to do my part."

"We'll try our darndest," promised Phil.

"And, of course," the coach added, warningly, "it goes without saying that you are to keep this little matter strictly confidential. You are doing this, remember, for the team!"

Phil and Milt stiffened with a sense of their responsibility.

"You can trust us," they a.s.sured.

Speed Bartlett was quite innocent of any plot against him and quite glad to accept the invitation of his two friends to attend the show.

In fact, he welcomed the opportunity as a means of possible relaxation.

Coach Brock had spoken highly of the Knute Rockne short subject--declaring it to be extremely educational, particularly as pertained to open field running. Since this was supposed to be Speed's specialty, his curiosity was aroused.

"Strange you fellows should be interested in seeing this same show,"

mused Speed, on the way over. "It's a good break for me since I'm supposed to see it, anyway."

"Listen, Speed," declared Phil. "We're nuts over football. We'd go almost anywhere within reason to see a game or something interesting about it. And when we read in the paper that one of Knute Rockne's pictures was there ... well, that was enough for us!"

"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.

"h.e.l.lo--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, rea.s.suringly. "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,"