"I should say not!" sneered Porter. "Hamilton's team--that sounds like playing favorites all right." "Yes, if it keeps on this will be known as the Kentfield-Hamilton Military Academy," added his crony. Dick heard, and his face flushed. He took a step toward the two lads, but he was unsteady on his feet, for the blow on his head had been severe. "You'll have to take that back Mr. Porter," said our hero a bit stiffly, "and you too, Mr. Weston." It was seldom that the cadets addressed each other thus, and only when there was some feeling engendered. "Take what back?" demanded Porter. "What you said about favorites," went on Dick. "I won't stand for that." There was that in his look and manner, and in his words that impressed not only his friends but the two cronies as well. They realized that Dick as an upper classman, had considerable influence, and, though they had their own following, due to their wealth and their willingness to spend money, they doubtless felt that they had gone too far. "Oh, well, I didn't mean anything," said Porter, half sulkily. "I--I was only joking." "I don't like such jokes," declared Dick grimly, and he looked at Weston. "Same here," muttered Porter's crony. "I was only fooling." "Your apologies are accepted," was Dick's reply. He walked on, half supported by Paul, and when his chums saw how evidently weak he was they wanted him to go to the doctor's office. But Dick would not. "I'll be all right in the morning," he said. "All I need is a little rest. We're getting right into football good and proper," he added with an attempt at a smile. "Yes, starting off with a hospital list," added Teddy. "Don't have too much of it, though." Dick was rather lame and stiff the next morning, and his head was in poor shape for study, so he cut some lectures, and got excused from drill and artillery practice. In the afternoon however, he was much better, and insisted on going through light practice in signals playing one half against the scrub, his place being taken by a substitute in the second period. Whether it was because Dick was off the team, or because the scrub played with fiercer energy, due to their defeat of the day before, was not manifested, but the Varsity was beaten by a score of fourteen to eleven, and once more there was a feeling of gloom in the ranks of the first eleven. "Oh, it's all right," Teddy assured his players. "We will make up for it to-morrow. By the way, Dick, when are your coaches coming?" "I've written, and I expect an answer some time this week. It may take a little longer than I hoped, but I told them not to let money stand in the way. I have made an offer to Burke Martin of Yale, and Wilson Spencer of Princeton." "Martin and Spencer!" cried Teddy in delight. "Say, if we get them here they'll make even the goal posts play the game. There aren't any two better coaches living."