The doctor tried to appear interested, but, for the life of him he never could remember whether baseball was played with nine, ten or a dozen men, albeit he attended all the championship games, and shouted with the rest when the team won. He wanted to appear interested now, however, and he was anxious to get back to his reading. "I regret to inform you," went on the proctor (which was not true, for Sid well knew that Mr. Zane took a fiendish delight in what he was about to say), "I regret to state that I caught Mr. Henderson coming in after hours to-night; and I would not think so much of that, were it not for the condition in which I caught him," and the proctor assumed a saintly air. "I don't quite understand," remarked the doctor, laying down his book, but taking care to mark a certain passage. Sid was idly aware that it was a volume of Sanskrit, the doctor being an authority on that ancient language of the Hindoos. "I regret to say that Mr. Henderson is intoxicated!" blurted out the proctor. "I am not, sir!" retorted the second baseman, it being his first remark since entering the room. "I have never touched a drop of intoxicating liquor in my life, sir!" There was a ring in his voice, and, as he stood up and faced his accuser there was that in his manner which would indicate to any unprejudiced person that he was perfectly sober. "Intoxicated!" exclaimed the doctor, for he had a nameless horror of anything like that. "Don't make such a charge, Mr. Zane, unless you are positive----" "I am positive, Dr. Churchill." "I have never touched a drop of liquor," insisted Sid. Dr. Churchill, with a stern look on his rugged face, advanced and took hold of Sid by the arms, not severely, not even tightly, but with a gentle, friendly pressure. He looked into the troubled eyes of the lad--troubled but not ashamed--worried, perhaps, but not abashed. The doctor bent closer. "I am no authority on intoxicants," went on the president grimly, "but I should say you were mistaken, Mr. Zane." "Will Mr. Henderson deny that I took a pint bottle of liquor from him not ten minutes ago?" asked Mr. Zane, as he produced the incriminating evidence. Sid's face turned red under its tan--it had been rather pale before--but he did not answer. Dr. Churchill looked grave. "Is this true?" he asked. "I did have the bottle in my pocket," admitted Sid. "But it was not for myself. I took it----" The president raised a restraining hand. "Wait," he said. "I will send for Dr. Marshall. This is serious." He sighed as he looked at his book. To-night he felt, more than ever, what it meant, to be the head of an institution where several hundred young men--healthy, vitalized animals--were held in leash only by slender cords. Dr. Churchill summoned a messenger, and sent him for the college physician. "Mr. Henderson is no more intoxicated than I am, and I never take a drop, nor give it," declared the physician. "I guess you're mistaken, Mr. Zane."