“I do, though,” replied the other in his even voice. “Always have. Of course, it’s absolute rot, because you know that just as soon as the whistle blows you’re going to be perfectly all right again.” “Wish I knew that,” answered Leonard. “You do, only you can’t remember it.” There was a silence then while Leonard tried to digest that statement. Then Renneker went on. “It’s rather absurd for me to be feeling jumpy to-night, for I’m not going to play. Must be just habit, I suppose. Queer.” “I wish you were going to play,” said Leonard with such evident sincerity that Renneker looked down curiously at him. “You do? I shouldn’t think you would.” He laughed shortly. “You might be out of it yourself if I did, Grant.” “I know, but--well, it’s just sort of an accident with me, while you really belong, Renneker. I don’t suppose that sounds very clear.” “Oh, yes. Well, I guess you’ll get on all right, Grant. If you do, it won’t matter much about me. Of course, I am disappointed, hang it! The whole silly thing is so--so--” He seemed almost on the point of becoming agitated, which was perhaps why he stopped abruptly. After a moment he continued with a note of amusement. “Really, Grant, I don’t know why I’m chattering to you like this. I don’t believe we ever spoke before yesterday. It must be the nerves!” “Oh, yes, we have,” answered Leonard. “Spoken, I mean. We came up from the station together that first day.” “We did?” Renneker seemed to be searching his memory. “Oh, then you were that chap in the taxi. I’d forgotten.” Leonard believed it. “I guess talking sort of does a fellow good,” he said after a moment. “When he’s jumpy, I mean.” “I dare say.” There was silence again while they came to the main gate and passed it unheedingly. Across Academy street the light in Coach Cade’s front room was turned down. “I suppose he’s at the meeting,” said Renneker. “Sort of a decent chap, Cade.” “Yes,” agreed Leonard, “I think so. All the fellows seem to like him.” “Including me?” asked Renneker dryly. “Why, I don’t know,” stammered Leonard. “Yes, I guess so. It wasn’t his fault, after all, was it? I mean I suppose he had to do it.” “Do what?” asked Renneker, peering down. “Why,” floundered Leonard, “I mean he had to--to do his duty. Stick to rules, you know. He wasn’t--” “Then you think it was Johnny who put me off?” Leonard pulled up with a start. He wasn’t supposed to know a thing, and here he had been giving himself away. He sought for a way out. Renneker broke the silence. “Look here, Grant, I don’t get this at all. Has Mr. Cade been talking?” “No, not to me, at any rate.” “Well, somebody has,” pursued Renneker grimly. “What have you heard, Grant? I wish you’d tell me.” After an instant’s hesitation Leonard did so. Renneker listened in silence. “None of us have breathed a word of it,” concluded the speaker earnestly. “Only Carnochan, and he was sore because of that scrap.”