Merriwell caught it and extracted a square, printed slip, which proved to be one of the warning notices sent out from the dean’s office when a student has fallen behind the required grade in any particular study. “A warning in Latin,” he said thoughtfully. “You must have been pretty rotten lately, Bob. Goodhue is one of the easiest profs in college.” “I have flunked a bunch of times,” Hollister confessed. “And that isn’t all, either. Got one in German day before yesterday. I suppose Schlemmer got on his ear after the mess I made of Heine last week.” “You want to look out, Bobby,” Fitzgerald put in lightly. “After this morning, you’re due for still another. Dear old Piercy was purple when you made that cute remark about Anthony’s date. I’ll bet he hot-footed to the dean the minute the class was over.” “And three warnings means a general one,” supplemented Elwell. “By hocus, Bobby! You’ll have to do a little cramming, or you’ll have the whole faculty down on your neck.” “They are now!” Hollister burst out petulantly. “I believe it’s a put-up job. Every one of them takes a special delight in getting me up every chance they can and making a monkey out of me. They ought to know I don’t have any chance to grind right in the middle of the football season. But what do they care about football! A lot of dried-up fossils! They don’t give a rap whether we’re licked or not. I don’t believe the biggest part of ’em even see one game a season.” “You’re wrong there, Bob,” Dick put in quietly. “Some of the profs are daffy about the game. The dean wouldn’t miss one for any amount of money.” “Yes, and old Piercy is the worst of the lot,” chimed in Fitzgerald. “You ought to have seen him Saturday—standing up on the bench, his hat off, hair rumpled, and eyes popping out of his head, waving his arms like a windmill, and yelling like a fiend. He’s a good old sport, even if he does like to catch a fellow napping in the classroom.” The clock struck ten, and the sound had scarcely died away when Buckhart threw out his arms and yawned, loudly and ostentatiously. “Humph!” remarked Fitzgerald tartly. “Why don’t you tell us plainly that it’s time to go home?” “I was waiting to see if you wouldn’t wake up to the fact yourselves,” the Texan returned tranquilly. The slim chap eyed him mischievously. “I’ve a good mind to stay here just to spite you,” he said presently. Buckhart yawned again. “Stay right along, if you like, little one,” he drawled. “That wouldn’t bother me a whole lot. In about ten minutes I’m going to hit the pillow; but if you gents want to sit here for the rest of the night chinning, you’ve sure got my permission.” Most of the other fellows were about ready to turn in themselves, and there was a general movement toward the door. Hollister got up with the rest, and then glanced hesitatingly toward Merriwell. “Got a couple of minutes to spare, Dick?” he asked, in a low tone.