Benny Wilkins' articles on the ball games did not find a place in the "Reflector," but, possibly, they were read by nearly as many students as though they had. Some glanced over their contents with roars of laughter, while others waxed so highly wroth as to cause Benny to steer a careful course in another direction when they approached. Quickly following the game with the Stars came another against Goose Hill, this time on the home grounds. Another disheartening page was written in the history of the school's athletics. The official score-card bore this entry: "Goose Hill 8: Kingswood High 2." On the day following Coach Roger Steele received a laconic letter which read: "DEAR SIR: "Kindly call and see me this evening. Bring Robert Somers with you. "Yours truly, "RUPERT BARRY." CHAPTER IX MR. BARRY ASKS QUESTIONS If there had been any guide-book of the prosperous town of Kingswood undoubtedly Mr. Rupert Barry's mansion would have received a prominent mention in its pages. Stone steps zigzagged between stone walls to the top of the hill. The mansion of the eccentric millionaire, in the midst of spacious grounds, could scarcely be seen from the road. It seemed as though the architect and builder had found a positive pleasure in concealing from view as much as possible of the rich and ornate structure. It was already dark when Bob Somers and Coach Roger Steele began mounting the steps. The glare from electric lamps on the street flooded some of the flights; others were left in almost abysmal blackness. As the two neared the bronze gate at the top the sound of wildly scurrying feet caused both to stop. A series of savage snarls and barks echoed weirdly, as the yellow dog, dark and formless in the gloom, hurled its body against the gate. "I don't wonder Mr. Barry hasn't many visitors," murmured Steele, softly. "Hope we don't get as hot a reception inside the house," chuckled Bob, in equally low tones. "Unless some one can persuade the menagerie department to leave I shall leave," said Steele. "Ah! The situation is saved." "Come here, Canis; come right here!" The two recognized the harsh voice of Mr. Barry, and, an instant later, heard the sound of his footsteps on the gravel path. "Who is there?" The words were flung at them with a sort of challenging querulousness. "Confound that dog! Who is there, I say?" The tall, gaunt form of the millionaire presently loomed above the ornamental curves and twists of the gate. "Roger Steele and Bob Somers," answered the coach. "Then why didn't you say so before?" The gate swung silently back on its well-oiled hinges. Several sharp commands promptly reduced Canis to a state of docility. "Come in."