“No. That’s the point. He started to, and once he almost did it, but something happened. Then he fell in love with the Governor’s daughter and they got married and went to Europe to live because the Socialists were mad at him for not killing the Governor, and put a price on his head.” “How much?” asked Dick interestedly. “I don’t know,” replied Fudge. “That’s just a figure of speech. So he lived over in Europe for a long time till he thought the Socialists had forgotten their grouch and then came back to this country and made his fortune.” “How’d he do it?” inquired Dick. “Oh, I don’t know,” said the narrator a trifle impatiently. “He was a Magnate. Anyhow, the Socialists hadn’t forgotten him at all, and every now and then they tried to kill him, do you see. Well, that’s the clue ‘Young Sleuth’ discovers, and so he tracks the Socialists and goes to one of their meetings in disguise and they find he’s a spy and he has a terrible time getting away from them with his life. I haven’t got that far yet, though. I’m where he has just discovered about the Socialists. I’ve got eight chapters done.” “Fine,” said Dick, folding his collapsible lunchbox. “How about the movie play, though? Done anything with that yet?” “N-no, I thought I’d better finish the story first and then dramatize it afterwards. That’s the way they generally do it. Maybe I won’t make it into a play at all, though. I read the other day that they don’t pay much for them. I guess I’ll have it published in a book first, anyway, wouldn’t you?” “Yes,” replied Dick a trifle absent-mindedly. “Look here, Fudge, you seem an inventive sort of chap. Why don’t you get your brains to working for the team?” “How do you mean, team?” asked Fudge inelegantly. “I mean try your hand at inventing a couple of good plays for us, Fudge. Ever try that sort of thing?” Fudge shook his head. “No. You mean trick plays?” “Not exactly. Leave the ‘tricks’ out of them. Just a good play that will put the man with the ball where he can gain through the other fellow’s line, or around it, Fudge. Imagine you’re the quarterback and want a score like anything. Locate the opposing players and then scheme to get through them. You know your rules, don’t you?” “Y-yes, I guess so. Most of ’em, Dick. What――what kind of a play would you want?” “A play that’ll gain ground. Any kind of a play that we can use, Fudge. I don’t know that you’ll have any luck, but it occurred to me that if you could apply some of the ingenuity you display in writing these stories of yours to the problem of devising a play to use against Springdale you might hit on something.” “I don’t mind trying it,” said Fudge with growing interest. “You have to have a checker-board and checkers, don’t you?”