"Well," said Bill a little later, as he and Garry were strolling homeward, "was I right or wasn't I in that hunch of mine?" "It was a good hunch all right," agreed Garry. "That was no accident. I saw the look in Bixby's eyes as he charged at me. He aimed his head right at my face. Gee, but my nose is sore!" he added, as he tenderly rubbed that bruised feature. "It's half again its usual size." "Hello!" Ella greeted him as he came in that afternoon. "How handsome you look, Garry. If only Jane Danter could see you now she'd rave over you." "Never mind the looks," returned Garry, as he threw his cap on a chair. "And as for raving, there's always plenty of that when you're around." He could not be quite so flippant with his mother, however, who was rather alarmed when she saw the size to which the swelling had attained and insisted on his going at once to the family doctor to make sure that the nose was not broken. The doctor reassured him on that point, much to the relief of the whole family. To tell the truth, Garry himself had been greatly concerned. He, naturally, did not want his appearance marred by a broken nose, but, he reflected, if it had been broken, it would have kept him out of the game for the season. Was it possible, he asked himself, that Bixby had had that in mind when he catapulted into him? The next morning Bill complacently exhibited a pair of skinned knuckles. "Where did you get those?" asked Ted Dillingham interestedly. "Ask Ed Bixby," grinned Bill. "I ran across him last night, and we had a little argument. My knuckles are skinned and his eyes are blacked. If you can put two and two together, you can guess what happened. Take a look at him to-day in class." Selleck, who took Bixby's place on the scrubs, proved to be a capable player, and practice proceeded with redoubled energy right up to the day set for the Greenfield game. That was scheduled to take place on the Greenfield grounds, and a big crowd of Lenox rooters went over with their team to cheer it on to victory. They were enthusiastic fans, too, for the work of the team since Garry's return had inspired them with high hopes. Greenfield was not lacking a whit in confidence, for it had in mind the overwhelming defeat that Lenox had suffered at the hands of Thomaston, and expected to ride roughshod over the visitors. The day itself was the coldest that far of the season. Though mid-October, it seemed more like December. Flurries of snow fell fitfully at intervals throughout the morning, and a bitter wind chilled one to the marrow. But it would require more than cold weather to keep the partisans of either team from the field, and by the time the game began the stands were fully as crowded as usual. "That snow's a good omen," chuckled Bill. "It means that we're going to snow Greenfield under." "Likely enough they'd put it the other way," laughed Garry. "Old Jack Frost won't have much to do with this game. We've got to do the work."