"Why did you tell Pitchfork I wasn't Henderson?" he demanded savagely. "Tell Pitchfork you weren't yourself?" asked Phil, as if he had never heard of such a thing. "What do you mean?" inquired Tom innocently. "We haven't seen you since we left you going after the fox, and we got tired and came home." "Do you mean to tell me," began Sid, "that you didn't----" And then he stopped, at the grins that appeared on the faces of his chums. "What's the use?" he asked wearily. "All right, I'll get even with you two," he concluded as he put his camera away and proceeded to change his clothes. But a little later, when he had developed the picture of the fox, and found it to be a fine one, he forgot his anger and the ordeal he had gone through, for Sid was a true naturalist. It was approaching the date for the great game with Boxer Hall, and the football squad was practicing with a fierce energy; for, more than any other contest, they wanted to win that one. The team was fairly "on edge and trained to the second," as Holly Cross said. They had won the two games that came before the final one, and now but two weeks elapsed before they would clash with Boxer Hall on the Randall gridiron. "Are you going to the _Kappa Delta_ dance?" asked Phil of Tom one night, referring to an annual affair of one of the Greek letter fraternities. "Sure," replied Tom. "I think we need something like that to get us in shape for the game with Boxer Hall. You're going, I suppose?" "Of course. Who you going to take?" "Haven't quite made up my mind yet. Are you going with a dame?" "Sure." "Who, if you don't mind me asking?" "Madge Tyler," answered Phil, and he seemed to be very busy arranging his tie. "Madge Tyler?" repeated Tom quickly. "Yes. Any objections?" Tom was silent a moment. He was struggling with a strange sensation. "Well," asked Phil, turning and facing his chum--Sid was out of the room--"any objections?" "Of course not," answered Tom slowly. "I took her last term, and--er--I was rather counting on----" "You were going to take her again this year," interrupted Phil, "but you waited too long. Sorry I cut you out, old man. No hard feelings, I hope?" "No--no," answered Tom hesitatingly. "Of course not," he added more genially. "I was too slow, that's all." "You'll have to ask some one else," went on Phil. "Are you sure you don't mind, old chap?" and he came over and stood beside his chum. Tom did not answer for a few seconds. There was a strained quality in his voice when he replied, as cheerfully as he could: "Of course not. You're first in war, first in football, and first in--the affairs with the ladies," he paraphrased. "Whom will you take?" persisted Phil. "Nobody!" exclaimed Tom, as he got up from the couch and started from the room. "I'm not going to the affair, after all," and he slammed the door as he went out. "Whew!" whistled Phil. "Tom's jealous!" CHAPTER XXIX A STRANGE DISCOVERY