If Willard couldn’t visit outside Haylow, there was nothing to prevent occupants of other dormitories visiting him, and after practice that afternoon four disturbed and perturbed youths sat in Number 16 and faced a puzzling situation. Martin was strong for confessing and making a public apology to Doctor Handley at Hillsport, in the hope that the Alton faculty would be lenient. He was decidedly obstinate in the matter, and it took much persuasion from Willard and Cal to alter his view. Bob was the least talkative of the four. He said he was perfectly willing to do whatever the others decided was best, but he offered no opinions. Bob blamed himself for the whole affair, from first to last, ignoring the fact that Cal had originated the scheme, and insisted that if it hadn’t been for his carelessness it would never have been connected with Willard. _Mea culpa_ was written large on Bob’s countenance and Martin’s repeated assertion that they were all tarred with the same brush--an allusion that made Cal wince, in view of the fact that his gray suit was costing him two and a half dollars for cleansing--had no effect on his melancholy. In the end it was Willard whose words produced conviction. “You fellows make me tired,” he declared impatiently. “What’s the use of going all over it a dozen times? The whole thing’s just this: If you fellows squeal on yourselves it isn’t going to do me any good, so far as I can see, and it’ll just about bust up the team. With the best right guard and left tackle out for the rest of the year, what’s going to happen? You know plaguey well they can’t find fellows to fill your places in the little time that’s left. We’d get licked good and hard, and that’s all there is to that. As for faculty being lenient, well, maybe they might be, but you can bet being lenient won’t let any of us play football! If we’d done something perfectly mean and putrid I’d say fess up and take the medicine, but we haven’t. We didn’t any of us know that Doctor Thingumbob lived in that house. We were just playing a practical joke and the rest was simply tough luck. You fellows just keep your silly mouths shut and go on and play football and lick the hide off Kenly. That’s all you need to do. I’ll take the punishment, whatever it is, and keep right on smiling. There’s just one thing I won’t stand for, though.” Willard looked at Bob and Martin fiercely. “If I get canned and you fellows don’t beat Kenly I’ll come back here and I’ll--I’ll mighty near kill you!” “Oh, dry up,” muttered Bob. “You know blamed well we’ll claw the wool off those guys, Brand! You don’t have to talk that way.” “It isn’t right, though,” said Martin.