Hugh reddened. “I’d like to get back on the second, sir,” he explained embarrassedly. “You see, I was getting on fairly well until I went on probation, and――――” “Oh, yes, Hanrihan mentioned you, I think. Ordway, is it?” “Yes, sir. I thought maybe you might let me have another try, Mr. Crowley, if you know what――――” “Are you square with the office now?” demanded the other. “Not today, sir, but I shall be by Friday, I fancy.” “Then you come and see me Friday, Ordway.” “Thank you.” “But don’t come unless you can play. And if you do come”――and here Mr. Crowley scowled fearsomely――“see that you stay. We haven’t any room for cut-ups on the team, Ordway. You won’t be of any use to me unless you can stay straight with the faculty.” Mr. Crowley dismissed Hugh and his affairs with a nod and turned back to Mr. Smiley. Hugh dropped out of hearing and presently the master rejoined him. “Are you going to watch the scrimmage?” asked the latter. “If so, suppose we sit down over there. Your friend at court seems to have provided for you, after all. I’m glad you’re to get back.” “Thank you, sir. It was good of you to――to――――” “Not at all, Ordway, but I shall expect you to make the most of your chance and become a distinguished member of the team.” The master smiled. “When you slam the ball across the line I shall proudly recall the slight assistance I rendered and partake of the credit. Now then, first kicks off to the second. ‘The trumpet hoarse rings out the bloody signal for the war!’ Well kicked, Trafford!” CHAPTER XIII BACK TO THE FOLD Bert was as surprised as he was delighted when Hugh informed him after practice that Mr. Crowley had virtually promised him a place with the second team. At first Bert insisted that his chum had misunderstood, but, on having the conversation repeated, acknowledged that Hugh had good grounds for encouragement. “I never heard of its being done before, Hugh,” he said. “Tom Hanrihan must have a drag with Dinny, and no mistake. You’ll have to work like the dickens to stay on. Think you can do it?” “I fancy I can do as well as some of those chaps there now,” answered Hugh placidly. “Bellows isn’t bad at end, I guess,” mused Bert, “but Forbes oughtn’t to be hard to beat. You’re trying for end, aren’t you?” “I wanted to play end, but I wasn’t there long enough to get placed more than once or twice. End’s about all I can play, I fancy. I’m not heavy enough for tackle or guard or back.” “You’d make a good quarter if you had more experience,” said Bert thoughtfully. “And they might use you for a running back. You’re quick, I guess.” “I’d be laid flat if I ran into Ted Trafford or Pop, though,” laughed Hugh. “Pop could take me up and throw me clear over the goal. I fancy end is my place, if I can get it.”