“You see, Locke, this doesn’t concern you alone. I’m convinced now that the fellow who perpetrated this silly business meant to cause trouble. Well, he deserves a lesson and I mean to see that he has it. I don’t want to take this to the faculty, and I don’t propose to, but I do propose to find this idiot and read the riot act to him if no more. So, come clean, Locke, and let’s get it cleared up. Now then, do you or don’t you suspect any one?” After a long moment of silence Barry nodded his head: “I do suspect some one, Major, but it’s only suspicion and I have no right to say any more than that.” “If your suspicion is wrongly placed, that fact will be proved, my boy. But I think you know that it isn’t. Whom have you in mind?” “I’d rather not say, sir.” “You must!” The Major’s tone was sharp, but Barry only shook his head. “No, sir,” he answered firmly. Their eyes clashed for a moment. Then: “You are making a mistake,” said the coach, grimly. “As long as you are on the team, Locke, I’m your superior officer, and I won’t stand insubordination. Now think that over a minute.” “This matter isn’t――isn’t――it doesn’t concern me as a football player, sir.” “It concerns the team. That’s sufficient. I want an answer, Locke.” “I’m sorry, sir.” There was a long silence. Barry, feeling very hopeless, stared at his tightly clasped hands. Then he heard the Major arising and glanced up. The Major’s countenance was very cold, very grim. “You had better sleep on this, Locke,” he said as he moved toward the door. “Until you can see clearly and decide to speak out, as you should, your services won’t be required with the team. I’m sorry, my boy.” “I’m sorry, too, sir,” answered Barry, faintly. Major Loring opened the door and went out. Barry listened to the sound of his footsteps in the hall, on the stairs, and finally on the porch. Then came the complaining creak of the gate. “Some one,” thought Barry, “ought to grease it.” For some minutes he stood where the Major had left him. Then something light against a window-pane drew him across the room. It was Toby’s moth, motionless, its lovely wings half spread. Barry placed a finger before it and stirred it gently and the moth slowly climbed aboard. With the other hand he opened the window at the bottom. Outside, however, the moth showed no desire to accept his freedom and Barry had to toss it into the dark. “Sort of a mean trick on Toby,” he reflected as he closed the window again. Then there was a knock at the door and Peaches sauntered in. CHAPTER XX THE OLD DESK REPAYS KINDNESS “Did you find him?” asked Peaches, carelessly. “Find who?” asked Barry, perplexed. “Mister Moth.” “Oh! Yes, I let him out.” Peaches seated himself on an arm of the easy-chair and viewed Barry shrewdly. After a silence he asked: “Well, going to let anything else out?” “Huh?” Barry was not, it seemed, very quick-witted this evening. “What do you mean?”