"Where are you bound for?" asked Holly, looking at Sid, attired in the raincoat. "I've got to go out," was the hesitating answer. "Wait until you hear the news," invited Holly. "It's great! It will be the baseball sensation of the year, Sid." "No--no--sorry, but I've got to go. I'll be back--soon--I guess. I've--I've got to go," and breaking away from the detaining hand of Holly, the strangely-acting boy turned down the corridor, leaving his roommates, and the newcomer, to stare curiously after him. "Whatever has gotten into old Sid?" inquired Holly. "Search us," answered Phil. "He got a note a little while ago; seemed quite put out about it, tore it up and then tore out, just as you saw." "A note, eh?" mused Holly, as he threw himself full length on a rickety old sofa, much patched fore and aft with retaining boards--a sofa that was a fit companion for the ancient chair. It creaked and groaned under the substantial bulk of Holly. "Easy!" cautioned Phil. "Do you want to wreck our most cherished possession?" "Anyone who can wreck this would be a wonder," retorted Holly, as he looked over the edge, and saw the boards that had been nailed on to repair a bad fracture. "Hello!" he exclaimed a moment later, as he picked up from the floor a scrap of paper. "You fellows are getting most uncommon untidy. First you know Proc. Zane will have you up on the carpet. You should keep your scraps of paper picked up." "We didn't put that there," declared Tom. "That must be part of the note Sid tore up." Idly Holly turned the bit of paper over. It was blank on one side, but, at the sight of the reverse the athlete uttered a cry. "I say, fellows, look here!" he said. He held the paper scrap out for their inspection. It needed but a glance to see that it bore but one word, though there were pen tracings of parts of other words on the edges. But the word that stood plainly out was "_trouble_," and it appeared to be the end of a sentence, for a period followed it. "Trouble," mused Holly. "Trouble," repeated Phil. "I wonder if that means Sid is going to get into trouble?" and his voice took a curious turn. "Trouble," added Tom, the last of the trio to use the word. "Certainly something is up or Sid wouldn't act the way he did. I wonder----" "It isn't any of our affair," spoke Holly softly, "that is unless Sid wants our help, of course. I guess we shouldn't have looked at this. It's like reading another chap's letters." "We couldn't help it," decided Phil. "Go ahead, Holly. Tell us about the trophy. Sid may be back soon." "All right, here goes," and wiggling into a more comfortable position on the sofa, an operation fraught with much anxiety on the part of Phil and Tom, Holly launched into a description of the loving cup. But, unconsciously perhaps, he still held in his hand that scrap of paper--the paper with that one word on--"_trouble_." CHAPTER II SID IS CAUGHT