“Keep it quiet,” answered Dick. “None of the fellows know that you’re badly hurt――if you are, of course――and it mustn’t get around. Springdale must think we’ve still got you to kick field-goals. We can fake along somehow, Morris. The doctor will let you come out in togs and sit on the bench, anyway, I guess, and maybe you can trot about a bit.” “Don’t see what good that’ll do if I can’t play,” objected the other dejectedly. “It’ll do some good, Morris. We’ll have to change our plans for the Springdale game, but we needn’t let Springdale know we’ve changed them. See?” “Oh!” muttered Morris thoughtfully. “Now, when you get home you telephone for the doctor at once and get his verdict. But swear him to secrecy, Morris, and swear everyone of your folks to secrecy too. Then call me up and tell me what he says. No, don’t say anything over the ’phone but ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ If you say ‘no’ I’ll know you can’t play. But don’t let a soul hear about it. If you can hobble out on Monday I’ll come for you in the car. I want the paper to report you at practice. I want Springdale to keep right on thinking that we’re banking on you for field-goals, Morris. I’m not going to lie about it, but I’m certainly not going to put anyone wise. See what I mean?” “Yes, I see what you mean, all right. But――but, hang it, Dick, it doesn’t do me any good!” “It’ll do you a lot of good if you see us win from Springdale instead of lose to her two weeks from to-day,” replied Dick. “It’s the one way, I guess, in which you can help us to win now, Morris. Remember that.” “All right, Dick. Anyway, maybe it won’t be as bad as we think. Maybe if I keep out of it a few days I’ll be all right.” “We’ll see,” said the other. “Now I’ll give you an arm into the house. Stay where you are till I get out.” Dick looked cautiously about and was relieved to find the street deserted. “All right now. Put your arm over my shoulders. That’s the ticket! Hurt much?” “Not――not much,” answered Morris from between clenched teeth. Three-quarters of an hour later Dick left the supper table to answer the telephone. “That you, Dick?” asked a voice at the other end of the wire. “Yes,” answered Dick. “This is Morris.” “Yes.” “He says――――” “Never mind that! Careful, Morris! Is it ‘yes’ or ‘no’?” There was a fateful pause. Then: “‘No,’” growled the voice. CHAPTER XXI THE NEW PLAYS ARE TRIED The football council, or board of strategy, as George Cotner liked to call it, met at Dick’s house Sunday night. Gordon, who had dropped around to call, was included. Lanny, Chester Cottrell and Cotner were the other members. None save Dick knew of Morris’s injury until Dick made it known. Then consternation indeed did reign. “Do you mean,” demanded Lanny, “that he won’t be able to play at all against Springdale?”