Saturday morning dawned brisk and fair, with a light westerly wind sweeping along the Front. Kenwood began to appear on the scene as early as half-past ten, and from that time on blue banners were almost as numerous as brown-and-white ones. The Kenwood team came at shortly after twelve and went at once to Alumni Hall for an early luncheon, heartily cheered on their way by friend and foe. On the train that brought the thirty husky warriors came also five persons whose affiliations were evidently with Parkinson, for each of the five wore a brown necktie, differing somewhat in shade, and two wore brown-and-white arm-bands. In the confusion existing in and about the Warne station they were not discovered by the reception committee of one for several minutes. Then Dick gave a yell, charged through the throng, grabbed Sumner White and spun him around. “Sum! You old scoundrel! How are you?” Dick was surprised to discover how glad he was to see Sumner. “Fine! Gee, Dick, you’ve grown an inch! Say, you needn’t have come to meet us. I told your----” Sumner stopped, grinning. “See who’s here?” “Hello, Charlie! Hello, Jim! Say, I’m awfully glad----” Dick’s words stopped in his throat. Then: “_Dad!_” he gasped. Mr. Bates laughed a trifle embarrassedly as he took Dick’s hand in both of his own. “Yes, it’s me, Dick. I--I thought I’d come along and keep these young fellows in order, you know. Well, how are you, son?” “I’m great,” answered Dick, “but I’m so knocked in a heap--Think of you coming, dad! Gee, I’m glad to see you! How are you? Let’s get out of here where we can talk.” Dick took his father’s arm and piloted him out to the sidewalk. Taxicabs were not to be thought of, for the demand already exceeded the supply six to one, and so they set off along the street afoot, Dick talking and asking questions and all the others chiming in every minute. It wasn’t until they were crossing the campus, Dick pointing out the sights, that he remembered the appointment with Mr. Driscoll. Then he hurried them all to the room in Sohmer and left them in charge of Stanley while he and Sumner went on to the gymnasium. On the way Dick explained the situation to his companion, perhaps not very lucidly, and Sumner was still in a most confused condition of mind when he faced the coach. But it didn’t matter, for Mr. Driscoll’s questions were few and somewhat perfunctory after Dick had had his say about Sandy Halden. “I think, sir,” Dick ended, “that Halden didn’t find that piece of an envelope at all. I think he addressed it himself, copying my writing the best he could.” “And I think you’re right,” agreed Mr. Driscoll. “I’ll have something to say to Halden after this game’s out of the way. He’s a dangerous fellow to have around.”