Later on Louise, Morris, Dick, Gordon and the unescapable Harold journeyed together by trolley car to the Point and talked the game over with a wealth of detail and enthusiasm. There was a very merry party at the Brents’ cottage that evening. Mr. Brent pretended to have found the game very tiresome and declared that he didn’t see any sense in grown-up boys wasting their time on such nonsense, and the young folks, and Mrs. Brent, too, she having heard of her husband’s doings, pretended that they believed him. After dinner Gordon, who had failed to get his swim in the ocean before, borrowed Morris’ suit and went in by moonlight. The cottage almost overhung the waves and the others, on the veranda, watched him glide in and out of the moon’s path and supplied him with a lot of doubtless excellent advice on the subject of swimming. Still later, with Gordon once more among them, Louise brought out her mandolin and they sang songs. Attracted by the music, Loring Townsend and Caspar Billings joined the company and added their voices to the chorus. Then they talked some more; of the day’s game, of the next Saturday’s important contest—and the _Reporter’s_ latest efforts—of school and a dozen other things. Dick and Gordon got the last car back to Clearfield, both comfortably tired and sleepy, and Gordon walked home with Dick. It was just before they reached the Levering gate that Dick sprung a surprise on his friend. “I’ve been thinking,” announced Dick, “that there’s one mighty good use we can put our money to, Gordie.” “What money?” asked Gordon, with a yawn. “Why, the money we’ve made on the games. You see, if we have the crowd next week that Potter thinks we’ll have we ought to be about two hundred and fifty dollars in pocket.” “Easy! Then what?” “Present it to the Athletic Committee to build a track on the new field. How’s that for a scheme?” “Why—er—oh, that’s fine!” But Gordon’s tone didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic!