"I thought so!" cried Sid. "I knew it. But tell that yarn about your sister to your grandmother. It's somebody else's sister you're going to see. You'd never tog up like this for your own sister." "Maybe," admitted Phil coolly as he finished dressing. As he stooped over to lace his shoes an envelope fell from his pocket. Tom picked it up and handed it to him. He could not help seeing the address, and, with something like a start, he noticed that it was in the handwriting of Madge Tyler. He handed it to Phil without a word, and he noticed that a dull red crept up under the bronze skin of his chum's face. But Phil shoved the note into his pocket and made no comment. "He's going to see her--Madge," thought Tom, and he tried to struggle against the bitter feeling that seemed to well up in his heart. "Leave the door unlocked," was Phil's parting injunction as he went out. "I'll be in early." "Girls, girls, girls!" grumbled Sid as he rolled over to a more comfortable position. "I'll be hanged if I room with you fellows next term if you don't go a bit easier on this dame question. You don't give me any attention at all. It's all football and the ladies." "It will soon be over," murmured Tom. "Which; football or the ladies?" "Football," was the answer, given with a laugh. Sid was asleep when Phil came quietly in, but Tom was wide awake. Still, he said nothing as Phil went about, getting ready for bed, and when his chum came close to him, Tom shut his eyes and feigned slumber. There was something coming between Tom and Phil. Both realized it, yet neither liked to broach the subject, for it was a delicate one. "Well, how was your sister?" asked Sid pointedly of Phil the next morning. "Very well," replied Phil calmly. "By the way, Tom, she was asking for you." "Yes," answered Tom, and there was coldness in his tones. He did not wait for Phil to go to lectures with him after chapel, but hurried off alone, and Phil, feeling humiliated, wondered if he had done or said anything to hurt Tom's feelings. Tom took care to keep out of Phil's way all that day, and when the last practice was over, save for some light work the morning of the game, the left-end hurried to his room. As he entered it he saw a note thrust under the door. He picked it up. It was addressed to him, and an odd feature of it was that the letters were all printed. "Who brought this here?" he asked of Sid, who was studying his biology. "Didn't know anybody had brought anything." "Some one shoved this note under the door for me," went on Tom, ripping open the missive. He could not repress a start as he read, in the same printed letters that were on the envelope, this message: "There is danger threatening Phil Clinton. Watch for it." "Anything wrong?" asked Sid. "No--no," spoke Tom slowly, as he tore the note into bits and tossed them into a basket. "It's just a tip, that's all, but I guess it doesn't amount to anything."