“Maybe I did.” “And you ‘framed’ it so I’d have to meet the Holcombes anyway, even if MacClay didn’t want me to?” Dick’s smile broadened into a mischievous grin. “What you don’t know won’t ever hurt you one little bit,” he replied banteringly; adding, as Larry got up to go: “I owe you more than I can ever pay, anyhow. Let’s let it go at that. But there’s one other little thing I’d like to say. I happen to know that Bry Underhill is perfectly savage about the thing you let out on him――stealing those mottoes from the flooded house. The next time he takes a lick at you he’s going to make it count, if he can. Just thought I’d mention it so you could watch out. Night-night.” XI IN WHICH LARRY HAS A HEADACHE Schools of journalism are doubtless excellent things in their way, but many a bright young newspaperman has had his start in helping to keep a college daily “functioning,” so to speak. Beginning with the athletic reporter’s job on the _Micrometer_ by writing copious columns which the editor usually cut to paragraphs, Larry was learning, and Havercamp, who was slated for editor-in-chief for the next college year, kept a weighing-and-measuring eye on the big, curly-headed Freshman who was slowly but surely learning the lesson of what ought, and what ought not, to be printed in a college newspaper. “Ever been in Yellowstone Park, Larry?” Havercamp asked, one night in May when Larry had stayed over in town to help put the paper to bed. “Not yet,” said Larry. “Why?” “You remind me of one of the geysers――Old Faithful. Goes off at regular intervals and never misses a lick. That’s what counts in the long run――even more than the brilliant intellect you read about――and don’t often see. You can’t write much yet, but you have the knack of being able to tell when the other fellow writes right. Do you get me?” “I guess so,” Larry laughed. “You’re trying to feed me up a bit, aren’t you?” “Something of the sort, yes. In a few weeks we’ll be electing the editorial staff of the ‘_Mike_’ for next year. Some of the fellows think you ought to run for athletic editor. The ‘_Mike’s_’ going to need a ‘steady’ or so next year, and you’d fill the bill.” “Not good enough,” Larry objected decisively. “That’s for the other fellows to say. I think you are.” “You ought to have a frat man,” was Larry’s next objection. “The fraternities have taken a good deal of interest in athletics this year and they ought to be encouraged.” Havercamp grinned. He was one of the most enthusiastic fraternity men in Sheddon, and it amused him hugely to have a barbarian pointing out that the fraternities ought to be “encouraged.” “Think we need ‘hoping up’ some, do you?” he laughed. “I like your cheek. Is that the best you can offer?”