Later, he told Slim what Renneker had said, and Slim frowned and grunted: “Mighty decent of him, I’ll say.” Leonard assented, but with too little enthusiasm to satisfy the other. “If it was me,” Slim went on, “I guess I wouldn’t be talking like that to you. I’d be feeling too sore about losing my position.” “Well, but it isn’t my fault he’s off the team,” objected Leonard, mildly. Slim grunted again. “Never mind; he’s off, and that’s what counts!” Leonard felt that there was something wrong somewhere in Slim’s point of view, but he was too tired to pursue the matter. There was a short session against the second team on Thursday, and then the whistle blew for the last time, and the season on Alton Field was at an end. The second cheered and was cheered and, finally, followed by the onlookers, crossed back to their own field and started a fire. A battered and discarded football, bearing a leering countenance painted on with white pigment, was set atop the pyre and the scrubs joined hands and danced riotously around it. The fact that the football subsided into ruins with only a faint sigh, instead of expiring with a resonant _bang_, was accepted as an ill omen of Saturday’s game. But the omen did not appear to affect the second team spirits appreciably! Friday was a day of rest, but there was an hour of signal drill in the gymnasium in the afternoon and a brief blackboard lecture by the coach in the evening. The latter was over by eight-fifteen, however, and afterwards Slim tried to persuade Leonard to accompany him to the final mass meeting in the auditorium. But Leonard had no mind for it, and Slim, realizing that his friend was having a mild attack of nerves, didn’t persist long. Going out, he stopped at the door to say: “I wouldn’t think too much about to-morrow, General; about the game, you know. Better get a good story and read. I’ll be back soon.” Leonard was willing to follow the other’s advice, but it wasn’t so easy. And when he looked for the good story it wasn’t to be found. At length he decided to walk over to the library and get a book, although, since the auditorium was above the library, he had no intention of tarrying there. It was a nice night, just frostily cold and with a couple of trillions of white stars winking away in a blue-black sky. Even with his mackinaw unbuttoned he was quite comfortable. Long before he neared Memorial he could hear the singing. “Cheer for the Gray-and-Gold! Flag of the brave and bold--”