There was no work on Monday for those who had taken part in the Southport game. Even Jim, although he had contributed but some fifteen minutes of his time to the contest, was excused. The victory had been an easy one, but it had nevertheless cost Alton heavily, since four of the first and second-string men had met with injuries. Only Crumb had fared seriously, however, and not for several days was the full extent of his injury known to the school at large. Then it was learned that he had fractured some bone with an unpronounceable name, located in his left leg, and would be out of the game for some time. In fact, whether he could get around again in time for the Kenly game was problematic. This news was received with consternation, for Crumb had shown himself the best ground-gainer in the Gray-and-Gold backfield, the only one, indeed, who could be relied on for heavy line-smashes to produce short but certain gains. Weight, speed and fight made him an ideal full-back, and his loss, even if it proved only temporary, was going to be keenly felt. Tennyson, who must fill his shoes, was twelve pounds lighter and was an almost unknown quantity as yet. He had shown ability in practice and in the first two games, but had not played against Lorimer, nor against Southport until the last quarter was well along. However well he might develop, it seemed certain that he would never show either the power or the ding-dong fighting spirit that had made Tom Crumb’s work notable. Jim’s knee responded readily to treatment, and he could have stood the gaff on Monday had he been allowed to, which he wasn’t. All he could do was go to the field and watch the first team substitutes practice and, later, get mauled about by the second. The only incident of interest to Jim occurred when Manager Woodruff found him on the stand and announced: “Todd, you’re to join the training table to-night.” Jim blinked and considered. Then, “Well, I don’t know, Woodruff,” he said slowly. “I guess I’d just as lief not.” “You--what?” gasped Lowell. “Well, you see I’m getting on right well where I am, and I’m sort of used to the fellows.” “You’re a queer guy,” said Lowell, feelingly. “Don’t you know that any other fellow would be tickled to death to be taken on?” Jim pondered that. “No, I didn’t know,” he acknowledged finally. “Anyhow, I don’t really care two cents about it, and if there’s some one else that would like it--” “Can’t be done, Todd,” Lowell grinned. “Mr. Cade’s set his heart on you.” “He says I’m to go?” asked Jim with more animation. “He sure does. Them’s his orders, Todd. Show up this evening, eh?” “Of course. I didn’t quite understand. Much obliged.” “Quite welcome. Say, you’re getting along pretty well, aren’t you. How’s the ankle, by the way?” “Ankle? Oh, it was my knee. It’s all right. Say, I guess maybe I acted sort of sour the other night.” “What night was that?” asked Lowell.