It was Jack Frey talking and his announcement brought exclamations of surprise and concern from the group of Bartlett men crossing the campus.

"What?"

"You're kidding!"

"If he's not coming back--good-bye football team!"

"Say, can't you guys tell when Cateye's joking?" reprimanded Benz Hoffmaster, last year member of Bartlett's backfield. "Of course Bob's coming back. He's captain-elect!"

Cateye shook his head soberly, taking a letter from his inner pocket.

"I wish I was only kidding," he said, as fellow students gathered around, "But this is straight dope. The man running the Billings farm is sick and Bob's decided to stay home a year to help his mother take care of things..."

An involuntary groan went up. Bob had been Cateye's room-mate. The two of them were also veteran members of the team, Cateye at left guard and Bob at fullback. Beyond having been the most popular fellow in school, Bob had been acknowledged the greatest player in Bartlett history. His absence would be felt off the field and on.

"But we can't let Bob stick out there on the farm!" protested Benz, "We need him too much here. Read the letter, Cateye. Let's get the details."

Cateye unfolded the letter obligingly.

"'Dear Pal,'" he read, "'I've put off writing this as long as I could, hoping that somehow things would work out so I wouldn't have to write at all. But, Jack, there's no use trying to kid myself, as much as I'd like to be back with you this year, I'm just not going to be able to make it. You see Mr. Duncan's been mighty sick for the past couple months and the doctor says he'll have to take it easy for at least half a year and that means only one thing--I've got to stick here and help mother run the place.'"

"Gee, that's tough!" muttered Curns, veteran right end.

"'But I'm sending someone in my place,'" continued Cateye, still reading, "'My kid brother, Judd--who, I think, is a natural born football player. He's worked on our farm the past four years when he hasn't been going to school and, since Bartlett doesn't bar Freshmen from her varsity, I'm hoping he shows up well enough to make the team.

He's big and strong but awkward and somewhat backward. You can do a lot for him, Cateye, if you will. He's never been any further than the little old home town, except the summer he visited me in the city, and the trip to Bartlett seems like a coast to coast journey to him. But he'll get this taken out of him the first few days there and you'll really find him a corking, dependable fellow when you get to know him.

I've tried to teach him a few things about football as it's played in college but he still has lots to learn. He starred, though, in the big game with Trumbull High last season. And, Cateye, if you'd like to do me a favor ... I almost hesitate to suggest this ... but if you could see your way clear to taking Judd in as your room-mate ... well, I'd never get over appreciating it. Tell the gang how sorry I am not to be coming back. Looks like, even without me, this year's prospects for a winning team, are very bright. Go to it! And don't stop till you've cleaned up on Pennington. Your old sidekick--Bob...'"

Fellow students consulted one another with glum glances. No doubt now about Bob's not returning. Suppose they'd have to make the best of it.

But what do you suppose the kid brother whom he was sending was like?

"So Bob wants you to room with a farm hand!" joshed Benz, "Well, that's what I'd call a test of true friendship. Just what are you going to do about it?"

Cateye nodded. "Why not? Bob was a farm hand at that rate--when he first came on here. His brother, Judd, can't be so bad and if there's a chance of his developing into good football material..."

"You said it!"

"Bob ought to know good football material when he sees it."

Cateye grinned. "There's a postscript I didn't read you," he added, "About Judd's arriving at two-five this afternoon ..."

"Hey, that's only half an hour from now!"

"I know it, and I've an errand I've got to do first," said Cateye, "But let me give you the rest of this postscript before I beat it. Bob goes on to give his brother a boost by saying: 'Judd's in great physical trim already. You should see him tackle three hundred pound hogs out here on the farm and throw 'em...'"

A howl at this.

"Better keep out of his way, Benz!" warned Curns, "You don't weigh that much but how you eat...!"

Benz made a move in Curns' direction, Curns retreating.

"Let me finish!" pleaded Cateye, "I'm in a big hurry, guys."

"Shoot!"

"Sure! Go ahead!"

"'... and, with Coach Phillips to instruct him on kicking, just watch Judd boot that old pigskin'." concluded Cateye. "How's that for a real send-off?"

Benz whistled, "Looks to me," he laughed, "Like Bob's trying to insure his brother getting a great reception by doing a rave about him. He's got my curiosity aroused at that. I'd like to look the boy over. What do you say, fellows, we all meet Judd at the train?"

The suggestion was made impulsively and received just as impulsive a seconding.

"Good idea!"

"Give Judd a grand welcoming for Bob!"

"Make him feel at home!"

"All right," agreed Cateye, "Meet you at the train then." And he was off about his business.

The afternoon train, packed with merry students returning to Bartlett after a long summer's vacation, puffed slowly and with apparent weariness up the slight grade and came to a stop not more than a block from the college. Although Bartlett was some three miles from anything which resembled a town it happened to be located near a railroad and the company, on special occasions, had conferred a favor upon the students by stopping at the college, thus saving numerous transportation bills.

As the train pulled in, some fifteen or twenty students, led by Benz Hoffmaster, pushed to the front of the platform and peered eagerly through the pa.s.sing windows, hoping to catch sight of the youth pictured in Bob's letter. Cateye, as yet, had not put in an appearance. He would have been of no help as to identification, however, for none in Bartlett had ever seen this expected new arrival.

But it was likely that Judd, in some manner, would betray his ident.i.ty.

Returning students, piling from the coaches, were swallowed up by awaiting friends and roommates who swarmed about them, amid much backslapping and handshaking. Everyone was glad to see everyone else back. The confusion was such that the group on the look-out for a strange face and a someone to whom the surroundings were obviously new, about reached the conclusion that one Judd Billings had escaped their notice.

"Or maybe he got so homesick he jumped off the train and's walking back to the farm," suggested Benz.

At this instant attention was drawn to the last occupant of the last coach who stumbled awkwardly off the car platform and looked dazedly about.

"There he is!" went up the shout.

Big-boned, apparently well-muscled, and of solid build, the new arrival presented a picture of strength but handled himself so clumsily as to provoke the curious interest of any pa.s.serby. In each hand he gripped a bulging suitcase.

"Hey, Judd!" called Benz, and started in his direction, followed by the group.

Startled at the sound of his name, the new arrival looked toward the charging reception committee. He drew back uncertainly as Benz dashed up, holding out his hand.

"You're Judd Billings, aren't you?"

The new arrival nodded, eyeing the fellows surrounding him with growing suspicion and uneasiness.

"Welcome to our college!" called Curns.

This brought a blaze of greetings.

"How's Bob?"