She had fought her way half the length of the field for a clean, well-earned touchdown in the second period and had kicked the goal. She had again rushed nearly sixty yards in the third quarter, and, being held for three downs, had sent a field-goal over for three more points. She had secured the ball two minutes later near the Corwin goal and almost scored again, a fumbled ball which every fellow on the eleven declared had been recovered by Tupper, being awarded to Corwin on the latter’s four yards. And, in the final period, when, with the score 12 to 10 against her, she had twice attempted goals from the field, either of which would have given her a victory, Morris Brent had failed dismally to make good. Not once, declared Lanny resentfully, had the luck broken for Clearfield. All during the contest Fortune had glaringly befriended the adversary. Even Corwin’s first touchdown could not be justly said to have been deserved, for the ball had been Clearfield’s on her twelve yards, succeeding a punt by the opponent, and, after off-side penalties had twice been imposed on Clearfield when Corwin had equally offended, a blocked-kick had been downed by Corwin behind High School’s line. But all this failed to impress the supporters of the team and by Monday feeling against Dick, or, perhaps, against what the school termed his system, was running high. One heard criticism everywhere, sometimes mildly sarcastic, more often angry and bitter. Some wag evolved a conundrum that circulated through school: “What’s the matter with the football team?” “Too many Beatons!” Unfortunately for the perfect success of the conundrum, the question elicited so many explanations and theories that the answer, when it arrived, fell rather flat. Just who started the agitation for a mass-meeting to protest against the conduct of football affairs never transpired. But the project met with instant acclaim and a notice suddenly appeared on the bulletin-board in the school corridor Monday noon. The meeting was to be held at eight o’clock Tuesday evening, announced the notice, in the assembly hall, and all students were requested to attend. The signature, “Committee of Twelve,” produced much speculation, but no one could or would throw light on the identity of the twelve. Dick, attracted to the bulletin-board by the group in front of it, read the announcement on his way out of the building in the afternoon. The group faded away as he pushed forward, although several of its component parts halted at a distance to observe the effect on the coach. They had their labor for their pains, for Dick showed neither by attitude nor expression that the notice conveyed anything to him. He passed out with his usual half-smiling gravity, nodding to those he passed, and it was not until he was climbing into his blue runabout that the half-smile faded from his face and his expression became thoroughly serious.