Chapter 11

"HOLD 'EM, THIRD!"

The term was a fortnight old when Thacher went down in defeat, 10 to 3, and by that time both Steve and Tom had made acquaintances here and there, and so when, after study hour that Saturday night, Steve announced carelessly that he was "going around to Hensey to see a fellow," Tom took it for granted that his chum was off to look up some new friend. Perhaps, since they usually made calls together, he wondered a little that Steve didn't ask him along, but he didn't mind being left out on this particular occasion since he was having a good deal of trouble just then with trigonometry and wanted to put in more time on Monday's lesson.

When Steve entered Hensey he passed into the first corridor and knocked on the door of Number 7. The card there held the names: "Andrew Loring Miller--Hatherton Williams." A voice bade him enter and Steve walked in. Andy Miller and his room-mate were both in, Andy sprawled on the window-seat, which was much too short for his long body, and Williams seated at the study table. Andy jumped up as the visitor entered.

"Glad to see you, Edwards," he said cordially. "Shake hands with Williams. Hat, this is Edwards of the fourth. Sit down, won't you?"

Williams, who was a heavy, dark-complexioned youth of eighteen with a flat nose and a broad mouth, shook hands politely, murmuring something that Steve took to mean that he was pleased to meet him, and sank back to his seat. Steve took the easy-chair that Andy pushed forward.

"Well, how are you?" asked the football captain genially. "Haven't run across any more confidence-men, I hope."

Steve smiled none too heartily and cast a glance toward Williams. But the latter's blank expression showed that the allusion meant nothing to him and proved that, as far as Williams was concerned, Miller had kept his promise of secrecy.

"No, not yet," answered Steve. "I thought I'd just drop in a minute and call."

"Of course. Glad you did. How's your friend?"

"Tom! He's fine, thanks. I--he wasn't through studying, so I didn't wait for him."

"And how's football going?" asked Andy. "Getting on pretty well?"

"I think so. Not so very well, though. I--I don't seem to please Marvin very well with tackling."

"Oh, you'll get onto that all right," said Andy cheerfully. "Fact is, I don't think a fellow ever really learns much at the dummy. It's dumping a chap in real playing that shows you what's wanted. Don't you think so, Hat?"

"Dummy practice is a good thing," answered Williams morosely.

He sat tilted back on the chair, hands in pockets, staring at the floor. He seemed a gloomy sort of fellow, Steve thought, and was relieved when Williams added: "Guess I'll run