Tom felt that he would have to spend some extra time running, both on the gymnasium track and across country. His wind needed a little attention, and he was not a lad to favor himself. He wanted to be the best end on the team. He spoke to the coach about it, and was advised to run every chance he got. "If you do, I can practically promise you a place on the eleven," said Mr. Lighton. "Who's going to be quarter-back?" Tom could not help asking. "I don't know," was the frank answer. "A few days ago I would have said Phil Clinton; but Gerhart, the new man, has been doing some excellent work recently. I'll be able to tell in a few days." Somehow Tom felt a little apprehensive for Phil. He fancied he could see the hand of Langridge at work in favor of his freshman chum. The matter was unexpectedly settled a few days later. There were two scrub teams lined up, Tom and Phil being on one, and Gerhart playing at quarter on the other. There had been some sharp practice, and a halt was called while the coach gave the men some instructions. As a signal was about to be given Phil went over to the coach, and, in a spirit of the utmost fairness, complained that the opposing center was continually offending in the matter of playing off side. Phil suggested that Mr. Lighton warn him quietly. The coach nodded comprehendingly, and started to speak a word of caution. As he passed over to the opposing side, he saw Gerhart stooping to receive the ball. "Gerhart," he said, "I think you would improve if you would hold your arms a little closer to your body. Then the ball will come in contact with your hands and body at the same time, and there is less chance for a fumble. Here, I'll show you." Now, when Mr. Lighton started he had no idea whatever of speaking to Gerhart. It was the center he had in mind, but he never missed a chance to coach a player. He came quite close to the quarter-back, and was indicating the position he meant him to assume, when the coach suddenly started back. "Gerhart, you've been smoking!" he exclaimed, and he sniffed the air suspiciously. "I have not!" was the indignant answer. "Don't deny it," was the retort of the coach. "I know the smell of cigarettes too well. You may go to the side lines. Shipman, you come in at quarter," and he motioned to another player. "Mr. Lighton," began Gerhart, "I promise----" "It's too late to promise now," was the answer the coach made. "At the beginning of practice I warned you all that if you broke training rules you couldn't play. If you do it now, what will you do later on?" "I assure you, I--er--I only took a few----" "Shipman," was all Mr. Lighton said, and then he spoke to the center. Gerhart withdrew from the practice, and walked slowly from the gridiron. As he left the field he cast a black look at Phil, who, all unconscious of it, was waiting for the play to be resumed. But Tom saw it.