“Well, but it _was_ an accident!” said Barry. “I haven’t touched a football since last fall.” Peaches shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m afraid you’re trying to put something over on us, Barry, my lad. I’m beginning to suspect――” He stopped suddenly and then added in lower tones: “Here comes the Major! Say, I’ll bet you he saw that and――” The coach waited for a white-clad runner to pass and then crossed the path. “Hello, Jones,” he called. “I’ve hardly seen you this fall. How are you?” The two boys arose and Peaches shook hands. “First rate, Major, thank you. And you, sir? Have a nice summer?” “So-so. Spent August in training-camp; that was fun. Got rid of five or six pounds up there.” His cool gray eyes turned speculatively to Barry, and Peaches announced: “This is Barry Locke, Major. Major Loring, Barry.” Barry shook hands, conscious of something questioning both in the firm clasp of the coach’s hard, brown hand and in the level gaze. Major Loring had a lean, deeply tanned face that was distinctly good-looking, but Barry had the sudden conviction that if the firm mouth and the steady gray eyes ceased to smile the Major wouldn’t look nearly so pleasant! And Barry was also as suddenly convinced that should the Major say, “Locke, stand on your head!” he would immediately and unquestioningly stand on his head! What the Major did say, however, was little like that. “You’ve played football, I take it, Locke,” he remarked. “Very little, sir,” answered Barry. “What do you call very little?” “Two years, sir, at high school. But I never made anything.” “How old are you? Sixteen?” “Not quite. I’ll be sixteen in December.” “I see. You seem to be able to kick a ball.” “That was――mostly accident, Major.” “Possibly. Why haven’t you reported for football, Locke? Anything wrong with you?” “No, sir, only I――I just didn’t think I cared to try for it. I play baseball.” “I see.” Major Loring looked inquiringly at Peaches. “How has practice been going?” he asked. “You’re through, aren’t you?” “Yes, sir; finished Saturday. I guess we got on pretty well. We’re weak in some places, but we’ll probably find some new material in March.” “We’ll hope so. I tried to get over and have a look at you, but this business here kept me busy.” He turned again to Barry and said crisply: “Well, Locke, now that baseball’s over you can give us a chance at you, I guess. I’d like to see you at work with the back-field fellows. Start to-morrow, eh?” Barry looked to Peaches for aid, but Peaches was grinning heartlessly. Barry gulped and nodded. “If you think――” he began. “Good!” said the Major. “Report to the manager at three-thirty. I can’t promise you anything but hard work this fall, Locke, but in this game we have to keep next year always in mind.” He nodded to Barry and to Peaches. “Come to see me, Jones,” he called over his shoulder as he strode away. Barry turned a perplexed and unhappy countenance to his companion.