Mrs. Keap was pacing the porch as the others came up, and called Speed aside; then, when they were alone, broke out, with blazing eyes: "You said you had stopped him!" "And I thought I had. I did my best." "But he's coming! He'll be here any minute!" "I suppose he learned you were here." Wally laughed. "Then you must have told him." "No, I didn't." "Mr. Speed"--Roberta's cheeks were pallid and her voice trembled --"you--didn't--send that telegram--at all." "Oh, but I did." "You wanted him to get here in time to run in your place. I see it all now. You arranged it very cleverly, but you will pay the penalty." "You surely won't tell Helen?" "This minute! You wretched, deceitful man!" Before he could say more, from the front of the house came the rattle of wheels, a loud "Whoa!" then Jean's voice, crying: "Culver! Culver!" while Mrs. Keap clutched at her bosom and moaned. Her companion bolted into the house and down the hall, shouting the name of his room-mate. Out through the front door he dashed headlong, in time to behold Fresno and the two girls assisting the new arrival toward the veranda. They were exclaiming in pity, and had their arms about the athlete, for Culver Covington, Intercollegiate One-Hundred-Yard Champion, was hobbling forward upon a pair of crutches. The yell died in Speed's throat, he felt himself grow deadly faint. "Crippled!" he gasped, and leaned against the door for support. CHAPTER XV In a daze, Speed saw his friend mount the porch painfully; in a daze, he shook his hand. Subconsciously he beheld Lawrence Glass come panting into view, throw up his hands at sight of Covington, and cry out in a strange tongue. When he regained his faculties he broke into the conversation harshly. "What have you done to yourself?" "I broke a toe," explained the athlete. "You broke a toe?" "He broke a toe!" wailed Glass, faintly. "If it's nothing but a toe, it won't hurt your running." Speed seized eagerly upon the faintest hope. "No. I'll be all right in a few weeks." Covington spoke carelessly, his eyes bent upon Jean Chapin. "You've g-got to run to-morrow." "What!" Covington dragged his glance away from the cheeks of his sweetheart. "I--I'm sick. You'll have to." "Don't be an idiot, Wally. I can't walk!" Helen explained, with the pride of one displaying her own handiwork: "Mr. Speed defends the Flying Heart to-morrow. You are just in time to see him." "When did you learn to box, Wally?" Covington was genuinely amazed. "I'm not going to box. It's a footrace. I'm training--been training ever since I arrived." In his first bewilderment the latecomer might have unwittingly betrayed his friend had not Jean suddenly inquired: "Where is Roberta?" "Roberta!" Covington tripped over one of his crutches. "Roberta who?" "Why, Roberta Keap, of course! She's chaperoning us while mother is away." The hero of countless field-days turned pale, and seemed upon the point of hobbling back to "Nigger Mike's" buck-board.