“What’s the use?” he said, with a quiet smile. “I don’t believe in knocking a man unless it’s necessary, even if he isn’t straight. I haven’t told a soul about this; but if you really think that’s what Blake’s up to, I have no objection to putting Bob wise on the quiet some time.” “I’m sure it is,” Townsend said decidedly. “He never used to come around, but ever since Bob got that talking to from the dean, he’s been in every solitary night, and insists on jawing football from the time he sets foot in the room until he leaves. I’ll take my oath that he’s got a reason for it.” “If that’s the case,” Hildebrand returned, “I’ll brace Bob the first chance I get and tell him a thing or two which will open his eyes.” The opportunity came the very next afternoon. Both Hollister and Hildebrand were late getting away from the field, and it happened that, quite without premeditation on the part of the latter, they came out of the gate together. In the bustle and turmoil of practice, the big guard had quite forgotten his promise to Townsend, but now it suddenly came back into his mind. “Say, Bob,” he said slowly, “do you mind walking for a few minutes? I just remembered something I wanted to tell you.” Hollister looked a little surprised. “Why, no, not at all,” he returned quickly. “Anything about the team?” Hildebrand hesitated. He had suddenly discovered that what he had to say was not going to be at all easy. “Partly, yes,” he answered presently. “I hope you won’t think I’m a beastly butter-in, Bob, if I touch on something which is rather personal. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think so much of you and hate to see you knifed.” Hollister frowned and a puzzled look came into his eyes. “I don’t see quite what you’re driving at,” he said, a bit shortly; “but go ahead.” The guard’s pleasant face was flushed. He almost wished he hadn’t promised Jim; but at length, he drew a long breath and took the plunge. “It’s about Blake,” he said quickly. “Jim tells me he’s been coming in every night and keeping you from your work. I think you ought to know that he isn’t—well, he isn’t quite—a fellow to be trusted. I know, because I caught him cheating in a poker game last spring—a game for money.” An ominous silence followed. In the light of a near-by street lamp, Hildebrand saw his companion’s lithe figure stiffen and his pleasant face harden. “Well, is that all?” inquired Hollister at length, in a cold, cutting voice. “Why, yes,” Hildebrand answered in surprise. “I should think it was enough.” Hollister was evidently keeping his temper with an effort. “Entirely too much!” he snapped. “I hope you’re pleased with your attempt to blacken the character of one of my friends. Nice, pleasant occupation, isn’t it, running down a man when he isn’t around to defend himself? However, you’ve had your trouble for your pains. I don’t believe a word of it.”