These were some of the expressions that greeted the advent of the newcomer. Dick Hamilton pressed up into the group of indignant lads, and accepted the letter which Innis held out to him. "Read that!" spluttered the stout lad. As Dick read a dull flush crept up under his coat of tan. "Um!" was his only comment for a moment. Then he said: "Well, he didn't soften it any. But how about it; isn't it almost true?" "That's what I say," cried Paul Drew. "We haven't a very good team, that's a fact," admitted Jim Watkins, who played centre. "Oh, bosh! You fellows make me tired," declared Innis. "You are almost as bad as Anderson." "Well, we ought to perk up." "Oh pshaw! We can play all right." "All we need is practice." "And a little harder work against the scrub." These and other comments flew back and forth. Dick Hamilton strolled toward an easy chair near a table. Casually he picked up a paper, and glanced over it as the discussion waxed warmer. There were two sides, one set of cadets holding that the eleven was not so bad, and the others maintaining that the players should not shut their eyes to facts, but endeavor to correct their faults. Both factions numbered members of the team, so it could not be said that prejudice shaped the opinions. "Well, what do think about it, Dick?" asked Paul at length, as he sat down beside his roommate. "About what?" asked the young millionaire, somewhat absently-mindedly. "Well, for the love of mustard! Have you been dreaming while all this racket was going on? And you read that letter, too! I say, Dick, what's up?" "Oh, yes, I remember now. I was thinking of something else," and Dick recovered himself with an effort, seeming to bring his thoughts back from some distant point. "The football team." "Of course, the eleven--or, rather, the woeful lack of one. What's to be done, Dick? I rather thought you might have a scheme, when you heard the news." There was silence in the room for a moment, and nearly all eyes were turned on Dick Hamilton. "A plan--yes--I might--by Jove, fellows, I believe I have a plan!" he exclaimed suddenly. "It ought to work, too. We've got to have the best team on the gridiron in the Military League, and just now I thought of something that will bring it about." "Then in the name of the two-horned rhinoceros speak it quickly!" begged Innis. "Say something so I can get back at this dub Anderson. I'll write him a hot one!" "Oh, it will take a little while to put it through," went on the young millionaire, "but I believe I can do it. Now my plan is----" At that moment one of the pages employed at the society house, which was sort of cadet club, approached the eager group of students. "Beg pardon," the page said, "but here is a telegram that just came for Mr. Hamilton." Dick tore open the yellow envelope. He read the message at a glance and seemed to start as at the receipt of unwelcome news.