“All right,” replied Cotton, ignoring the statement in favor of the question. “It’s a punk school, though. Not half as good as Broadwood.” “Wonder you didn’t behave yourself when you were with us, then,” said Gibson. “You’re a bit of a mutt, Cotton, I guess. Well, I must be getting on. How far is it to Greenburg?” “Oh, twenty minutes, maybe. Is the game over?” “No, judging by the sounds it isn’t. I’ve had enough of it, though. You’ve got a rotten team here this year, Cotton.” “You bet we have!” assented the other eagerly. “That’s what I tell them. You’ll lick the stuffing out of them, Gibson. Are you on the team this year?” “Me? Not exactly. I’m running Browne pretty hard, though. I may get on next week. Why aren’t you at the game?” “I had to get a letter off on the three o’clock mail and the only way to do it was to take it to Greenburg. They only have two collections a day up here. It’s a rotten place. I wanted to see the game, too. That’s why I was hurrying back.” “Well, don’t let me keep you.” “Oh, that’s all right. They’ll get licked, anyway.” Gibson, who had turned to go on, paused and observed Cotton attentively, speculatively. “You don’t seem to love your team, Cotton,” he suggested. “Oh, they’re a great bunch of snobs,” replied Cotton bitterly. “If you haven’t got some sort of a drag you can’t get any show. It’s that way with everything here. Now, at Broadwood――――” “Your admiration for your dear old alma mater is touching,” sneered Gibson. “I suppose you tried for the team and got chucked, eh?” “I didn’t have any pull. They don’t care how well you play. If you don’t know the fellows――――” “Hm,” said Gibson thoughtfully. “Well, say, if you aren’t crazy to see the end of the game, Cotton, why don’t you turn around and walk back to Greenburg with me? I’ll treat to a soda, if you like, and we’ll have a chin.” “Sure! I don’t care about the game. It must be almost over now, anyway. But what were you doing over here, Gibson?” Cotton frowned his perplexity. “Me? Oh, just watching.” Gibson winked slowly and meaningly. “By Jove!” Cotton smiled delightedly. “That’s your game, eh? Did you get anything?” “Think I’d tell you if I did?” laughed Gibson, taking the other boy’s arm. “Oh, shucks!” said Cotton. “You can trust me, old man; you know that.” “Well, come along and I’ll tell you about it.” CHAPTER XIII THE DUKE STARTS SOMETHING