Drake laughed and denied the accusation. A water boy came running up and dashed a pail of water on Judd's face. The Trumbull players crowded about, crestfallen. Judd came to ... with an expression of pain on his face. He moved his left shoulder cautiously and winced as he did so. "Oh ... take me out ... take me out..." he whispered ... "My shoulder!" Barley picked up Billings' head gear which had been knocked off in the tackle. The stands were cheering his name. But Judd was conscious only of pain. As they helped him to his feet ... he saw the coach on the field. "I--I can't go on, sir," he said. "I--I'm hurt." The coach examined Judd's shoulder. "It's just a wrench ... you're our only hope ... can't you stick?" As the coach asked the question he took the head gear from Barley's hands and went to place it back on Billings' head. A piece of white paper fell out. The coach picked it up curiously. There was some writing on it. "Here, sir! Give that to me! That's mine!" Judd's eyes flashed. It would not do for anyone to see what was written on it. If they did he would be humiliated forever. "Please, sir!" as the coach began to unfold the paper. "If you'll give it back to me ... I'll stick in the game!" Coach Little shook his head perplexedly and handed him back the paper. Judd took it shame-facedly and tucked it quickly in his cap, turning away. His team-mates stared at him in incomprehensive amazement. "He's gone nutty!" said Barley. The players had no sooner lined up to resume play than the whistle blew for the end of the third quarter. The ball was on Canton's thirty-nine yard line and Canton's first down. Score--Canton 14; Trumbull 6. On the sidelines a small commotion was evident. The great Bob Billings had arrived! He'd intended to see the entire game but had missed train connections at the junction. It had been his desire, however, to keep Judd from knowing of his contemplated presence. The substitutes crowded around the former Trumbull star in eager admiration. Bob sought out Coach Little. "Mister Little ... my name's Bob Billings ... how's the game going?" "Too much beef for us in weather like this ... the boys are putting up a great fight though!" "How ... how's my kid brother doing?" Coach Little looked out upon the field. The teams were changing ends and getting in position to take up play in the last quarter. "I can't understand him. He scored our only touchdown on a great fifteen yard sprint. Then he stopped that big bull ... Drake ... just as it looked like Drake had a clear field. Drake fell on Judd after the tackle and hurt him ... He'd have quit the game then and there if it hadn't been for a piece of paper." "A piece of paper?" Coach Little laughed. "Yes ... I found it in his cap and gave it back to him without reading it on his promise to stay in the game. I suppose the kid's sweet on some girl and was more afraid of being embarrassed than he was of being hurt!"