“We’d have gone over in two more plays,” panted Neil Ayer as he walked off beside Hugh. “I don’t believe time was up. They were afraid we’d score on them! That was a pretty run of yours, Hobo. I thought you were gone a dozen times. You sure can dodge like a rabbit. Where’d you learn it?” “I don’t know,” said Hugh. “Right here, I fancy.” “Haven’t you ever played before?” Hugh shook his head and Neil viewed him appraisingly. “You’re built for it, I suppose. If you had another twenty pounds on you you’d be a wonder.” The school seemed much inclined to consider him a wonder as he was, and his fame grew mightily. Hugh made the discovery that evening that his circle of acquaintances was much wider than he had supposed. Fellows who had previously never noticed his existence spoke to him almost eagerly and seemed quite pleased if Hugh, disguising his surprise, murmured a response. Juniors gazed upon him with bated breath, only daring to nod, but upper-class fellows called him “Hobo” to his face and grinned in friendly manner. Of course he liked it; no fellow could fail to; but it made him feel, as he confided to Bert, “a bit of an ass, if you know what I mean.” He went to bed that Tuesday night a star half-back on the second team. He awoke on Wednesday morning a substitute on the first, but he didn’t know it because he hadn’t overheard part of a conversation which had taken place the evening before in the front room of a little white house in the village. The front room, used by Coach Bonner as a sitting-room, held two persons beside the head coach. These were Assistant Athletic Director Crowley and Trainer Richards. It was no uncommon thing for them to meet there after supper and go over the day’s work together, and now that the season was nearing its end these conferences took place almost every night. The portion of the conversation which would have interested Hugh had he heard it was this: “That lays Vail off for most of the week, then,” mused Mr. Bonner. Davy Richards nodded. “When do you want Winslow to come back?” asked the coach. “He might play Saturday if you need him. I’ve got a pad fixed up for him.” “Can he get into practice by Thursday?” “Sure, if he don’t get into it too hard.” “He will have to play Saturday, that’s certain. Half the game, anyway. That leaves me short in the back-field. That fellow Hanser doesn’t work very well, Dan.” “He’s as good as I’ve got, Coach.” “He may be now, but he won’t be if Ordway keeps coming. That kid’s a wonder in a broken field. If you built up a game around him, Dan, you’d have a mighty good attack for the middle of the field.” “He’s clever,” acknowledged Mr. Crowley, “but he’s light. Next year――――”