After a few moments of further staring into the night they withdrew and Peaches lighted up, drawing the curtains. Barry approved the latter act, for he had begun to feel sort of shivery. They talked the situation over, in voices unconsciously lowered. Peaches said that Davy wasn’t going to try to get away to-night, that probably it was best not to. “If that fellow down there is really watching the house,――and I guess there’s no doubt about that,――he’s likely to keep on watching most of the night. He would know that if Davy is here he wouldn’t try to get off until midnight or later. What I can’t make out is why the cop doesn’t come in and have a look.” “Maybe,” suggested Barry, “they aren’t certain. Maybe they’ve just heard enough to make them suspicious. You have to have a warrant to search a house, don’t you?” “I guess you do. Well, I’m going to bed, and you’d better do likewise, old-timer.” In the morning Barry’s first act was to hurry across to Peaches’ room and look anxiously from the side window. The street was utterly deserted, and, in the bright sunlight, it was easy enough to believe in the innocence of the lurking form of the night before. The Springfield game was dull and one-sided. Again Barry saw service in the final episode and was called on for six punts. The Major used nearly every second- and third-string player before, at last, the contest ended with the score 33 to 0. Followed much rejoicing until news came that Hoskins had defeated Peebles, 22 to 3. Recalling that Peebles had humbled Broadmoor by a score of 21 to 3, the rejoicers ceased rejoicing and amazedly considered the fact that, if figures didn’t lie, Hoskins was at that moment exactly thirty-seven points better than Broadmoor! Monday saw the beginning of secret practice on the field and the institution of evening sessions in the gymnasium, and Wednesday witnessed the hardest practice of the season. Not until the lights had begun to appear in the windows on the campus were the players released. Barry was far too tired to hurry through his shower and his dressing, and the locker-room was almost empty when he left it. To his surprise, Clyde was waiting outside on the steps, and joined him. “Some drive,” he said. Barry agreed and, accommodating his step to Clyde’s, headed toward Dawson. “You got quite a send-off in the paper this morning,” said Clyde, after a pause. “See it?” Barry hadn’t seen it. “Well, I saved it for you. It’s in the room. Short Higgins is corresponding here, and he has half a column of dope. Calls you ‘Broadmoor’s punting ace,’ and if Hoskins believes what he says they’ll probably lay for you and try to put you out, Barry. It seems to me Higgins hasn’t done us any favor by boosting you as a kicker. I’d like to know what the Major thinks of it. What’s the sense of advertising the fact that we’ve got a punter? Much better keep quiet about it, I think, and surprise the enemy if we can.”