Added to all the rest, Paul was smitten with the torrent of profanity that burst from scores of Burrton men as the truth that they were beaten began to come forcibly home to them. Paul had lived long enough to know that the passion of gambling always rouses the worst exhibitions of human selfishness. But it was a new revelation to him to see these smartly dressed rich men's sons cursing God and profaning the name of Christ because they had bet heavily on their boat crew and lost. In the midst of all their oaths the name of Carlisle came in for heavy scoring. From the heights of the most extravagant hero-worship he had suddenly tumbled into this cesspool of profane unpopularity. All of which goes to prove any number of useful things, among them the necessity, if you are going to be stroke oar of a boat crew, it is best if you would retain your popularity to keep in training until the season is over, and even then it is not certain that you will always escape the other extreme of being overtrained. But Paul's attention was speedily directed to Walter. The boy looked perfectly dazed as the final result of the race broke upon him. After two or three eager questions put wildly to those nearest him, he had sunk upon the seat, and when his father spoke to him he did not at first seem to hear. Then he roused up and slowly went down off the stand and walked along by his father like one going to execution. It was a characteristic of Paul Douglas to go straight at a difficulty or a question and make a frank and honest attempt to clear away all mystery and trouble. He saw plainly that some unusual thing was agitating Walter. The boy was under some great stress of feeling and could not conceal it. So when the two were back in Walter's room, Paul at once began to seek the cause of the boy's trouble. "What is the matter with you, Walter? You have not been yourself all day." Walter was very white, and what he said to his father's question was so inaudible that Paul could not understand it. "What is the matter with you, Walter? Are you sick? Tell me," said his father sharply. "I can't, father, I can't," Walter stammered and looked so wretched that his father said more gently: "Don't be afraid of me. Speak out if you are in any trouble. I want to help you. Don't you know that, Walter?" "Yes, but------" "Has it any thing to do with money matters? Tell me." "Yes, I can't! Can't do it, father. I don't mean----" And then Walter broke down completely. He laid his head down on his arms and cried hysterically. Paul sat looking at him sternly. For the first time that day an inkling of the truth began to dawn on him. At first it did not seem possible to him that his boy could do such a thing. It was so incredible to him at first that he sat silently eyeing the bowed head with an entirely new and bitter feeling. When he finally spoke it was with a slow and steady measure of speech revealing great self-restraint.