"Might as well be fired as put on pro," said Clint. "It would mean no more football this year for any of us. My word, wouldn't Robey be mad!" "Wouldn't I be!" growled Tom. "Look here, do you really suppose he's trying to find out who we were, or was that just a bluff to scare us into 'fessing up!" "Josh isn't much of a bluffer," observed Don judiciously. "What he says he means. What I don't savvy is why he hasn't found out already. Every hall master has a record of leaves." "Yes, but it was Saturday night and I'll bet half the school had leave," said Tim. "I dare say, though, that if any fellows are suspected we're amongst 'em, Don. Being on the first floor, Josh knows we could sneak in easily. Still, he can't prove it on us." "I'm not so sure," replied Don thoughtfully. "Suppose he asked Mr. Brady?" A dismayed silence ensued until Tom laughed mirthlessly. "That's one on us," he said. "We never thought of that. Maybe he has asked Brady already." "Brady doesn't know our names," said Tim. "You didn't tell him, did you, Don?" "No, he didn't ask. But he could easily describe us so that Josh would recognise us, I guess." "That's the trouble with being so plaguy distinguished looking," mourned Tim. "Seems to me, fellows, that there's just one thing to be did, and did sudden." "You mean warn Mr. Brady?" asked Clint. "Exactly, my discerning young friend. Maybe the horse is stolen----" "What horse?" asked Tom perplexedly. "Merely a figure of speech, Tom. I was about to observe when so rudely interrupted----" "Oh, cut out the verbiage," growled Tom. "That possibly it was too late to lock the stable door," continued Tim, "but we'd better do it, just the same. Let's see if he has a telephone." "Of course he has," said Clint, "but I don't think it would be safe to call him up. We'd better see him. Or write him a letter." "He wouldn't get a letter until tomorrow, maybe," objected Don. "One of us had better beat it over to his place as soon as possible and ask him to keep mum." "I can't go," said Tom. "I've got four recits this morning and Robey would never let me off practice." "I don't believe any of us will do much work this afternoon," said Tim. "I'll go if Robey'll let me cut. I wish someone would come along, though. It's a dickens of a trip to make alone. You come, Clint." "I will if I can. We'll ask Robey at dinner. What shall we say to this Brady man?" "Just tell him what's doing and ask him to forget what we looked like if Josh writes to him or calls him up or anything. Brady's a good old scout, I'll bet," added Tim with conviction. "Maybe we'd better buy a setting of eggs to get on the good side of him." "Don't be a chump," begged Tim. "I don't call this a comedy situation, if you do, Tim. I'd certainly hate to get on pro and have to drop football!"