“He told him the truth,” laughed Rusty, “but I don’t believe Summer believed him.” “Summer? Not that big left-guard of theirs?” cried Stanley. “Yes, Harold Summer.” “Then--then you _do_ know him?” “Only by reputation,” replied Rusty modestly. “I’ve never had the honour of meeting him.” “How’d you know where he roomed?” “Easy. Looked up the fellows on the team until I found a couple who roomed in Wallack. Half of them do room there, because it’s a sort of senior dormitory, I guess.” “Looked ’em up where?” demanded Dick. “In the school catalogue. There was a copy in the library. I forgot to say that we visited the library amongst other places of interest. I found one football chap lived in 17 Wallack and another in 28, and I knew that one of them must be on the back, and it turned out to be 17, and that was Harold’s dive.” “Summer’s? But, look here, seems to me Summer’s name is George,” said Stanley. “Where do you get this ‘Harold’ stuff?” “Had to call him something, and Harold sounded sort of convincing, sort of like what a Phillipsburg fellow _would_ be called. Get me?” “Oh! Well, say, suppose Summer didn’t go back to his room until after supper or something? Have you seen Sandy since?” “Oh, yes, he’s aboard. I saw him in the station. He didn’t see me, though. I think he wants to. That’s one reason I wasn’t keen for going after the chocolate. Something tells me that Sandy has misconstrued my innocent efforts to save his money for him!” “Gee, but I’ll bet he’s mad enough to bite a nail!” chuckled Stanley. “Of all the crazy stunts, Rusty, that’s the craziest! How did you know Summer wouldn’t have a room-mate and that the room-mate wouldn’t be in when you got there?” “I didn’t. I couldn’t find that out without going through the whole catalogue, and there wasn’t time for that. If there’d been anyone in when I knocked I’d have just asked for a fictitious name and backed out again. Anyway, I don’t see what Sandy has to be peeved about. He saw the game without paying a cent!” “Except for the caramels and soda,” laughed Blash. “I wish I could have been behind a door or some place when Summer walked in and found Sandy sitting there!” “Maybe Sandy got wise and got away before Summer came back,” suggested Stanley anxiously. But Rusty shook his head. “He probably got wise, all right, but I’ll bet he didn’t get out! There was only one door and that was locked. There wasn’t any transom and the window was two stories up. And I don’t believe there was a soul in the building; every fellow was at the game.” “How the dickens did you ever think of the scheme?” asked Stanley admiringly. Rusty shrugged modestly. “Oh, it just sort of came to me. Like an inspiration, you know. Well, that settles one or two old scores between Sandy and me, I guess. I hope Summer didn’t beat him up, but still, if he did--” Rusty shrugged again. “I should grow faint and be carried out!”