There was a big attendance at the grounds, which adjoined the military academy, about twenty miles from Randall College. In their first half the home eleven, by dint of trick plays and much kicking, so wore out the Randallites that they could not score, while Orswell made two touch-downs. But it was different in the second half, and after a touch-down gained by a brilliant run on Tom's part, there came a second one, which resulted from the sequence plays. Right through the line in turn went Kindlings Woodhouse, Holly Cross and Ed Kerr. The twenty-five yards were made in three minutes of play, and the score tied. Then, by a skilful forward pass and some line bucking, another touch-down was made, and then, as if to cap the climax, Holly Cross kicked a beautiful field goal. "Wow! Hold me from flying!" cried Phil, as he tried to hug the entire team after the referee's whistle blew. His fellows had responded nobly to the calls he made on them, and he had run the team with a level head. "Boys, I'm proud of you," said the coach. "It's the biggest score against the Orswell cadets in many a year." And there was much rejoicing in Randall College that night, so that Professor Tines felt called upon to remonstrate to Dr. Churchill about the noise the lads were making. "Why, I'm not aware of any unusual noise; not from here," spoke the venerable president, in his comfortable study, with a book of Sanskrit on his knee. "You could hear it if you went outside," said the Latin teacher. "Ah, yes, doubtless; but, you see, my dear professor, I'm not going outside," and Dr. Churchill smiled benevolently. "Humph!" exclaimed Mr. Tines, as he went back to his apartments. "If I had my way, football and all sports would be abolished. They are a relic of barbarism!" It was late when Phil and Tom got to their room that night. They narrowly escaped being caught by Mr. Snell, one of the proctor's scouts, and dashed into their "den" at full speed. "Can't you make less row?" demanded Sid, who was studying. "You've put all the thoughts I had on my essay out of my head." "Serves you right for being a greasy dig!" exclaimed Tom. "Why don't you be a sport? You're getting to be a regular hermit." "I want my degree," explained Sid, who was studying as he had not thought of doing his first term. It was after midnight when Tom, who did not sleep well on account of the excitement following the football game, awoke with a start. Through the glass transom over the door of the room he saw a red glare. "Fire!" he exclaimed, as he jumped out of bed and landed heavily in the middle of the apartment. "What's that?" cried Phil, sitting up. "Is there a telegram for me? Is there--is there----" He was at Tom's side, hardly awake. "It's no telegram," answered Tom quickly "Looks like a fire." He threw open the door. The corridor was filled with clouds of lurid smoke which rolled in great masses here and there.