“Crowell doesn’t let you know whether he’s satisfied or dissatisfied,” said Halliday. “Still, I don’t care who plays goal for us as long as he stops Broadwood from scoring. That’s the main thing, I guess. I’ve got to trot. Coming along, Fan? No more juice of the sun-kissed orange, thanks, Homer. I’m full of it now. I’ll bet I’ve got enough different kinds of chemicals inside me to stock a laboratory!” “You have not!” denied Homer indignantly. “That’s pure fruit-juice untouched by the human hand and passed by the board of censors.” Halliday and Fanning took their departure, laughing, and Toby, so far a very silent member of the party, broached the object of his visit. “I wish you’d go over to Greenburg with me in the morning, Arn, and help me buy some leg-guards and a pair of gloves. Will you?” “Of course, if I can. What time?” “Eleven? You don’t have anything then, do you?” “Not on Saturday. All right. We won’t take Homer, though. He indulges in too much levity on such solemn occasions.” “Thanks, but Homer wouldn’t go if he was asked. Homer has given his promise to expunge three conditions between now and the fifteenth day of February, and what Homer promises, that he performs.” His expression of implacable virtue was, however, somewhat marred by a cavernous yawn. “Still, if you really need my advice, Toby――” “No, thanks, I’m not buying neckties to-morrow.” With which _bon-mot_ Toby closed the door behind him before Homer could think of a suitable rejoinder. CHAPTER XII THE MARKED COIN Frank Lamson was coming along the corridor as Toby reached the top of the last flight. The fact that Stillwell’s door was open indicated that Frank had been paying a visit to the substitute cover point. Toby was for passing with a nod and a word, but Frank, who seemed to be in unusually good humor, stopped. “Hello, Sober Sides,” he greeted. “What’s the good word?” “Hello, Frank,” answered Toby without much enthusiasm. “How are you?” “Oh, fine! How do you like playing on a real team, Toby?” “Pretty well. I’ll probably like it better when I get more――more used to it. I dare say you found it hard at first, didn’t you?” “Rather! You wait till you have Crowell and Arn and those chaps shooting at you. Then you’ll know what playing goal really is. Say, I heard that Dave Henry isn’t coming back. Know anything about it?” Toby shook his head. “No. They were talking about it to-night in Arn’s room, but I got the idea that he expected to get off probation in two or three weeks.” “Two or three weeks?” Frank repeated calculatingly. “That would make it just before the Broadwood game. Well, I don’t wish him any bad luck, but I’d like it just as well if he didn’t.” Frank grinned and winked expressively. “I’d sort of like to play goal myself against Broadwood, you see.” “You think that if Henry didn’t get back you’d play?” asked Toby innocently.