As several of the cadets were lame and stiff from the unusual exertion in the Dunkirk game, only light practice was indulged in. Several minor faults were corrected, and then the coaches put their charges through some wing-shift plays, and gave them a chance to improve their work in the on-side kick and the forward pass, in both of which the Kentfield lads were a trifle uncertain. "Oh, we'll have you in shape to tackle Haskell before you know it," said Mr. Martin encouragingly. If any of the players were doubtful about this they did not say so, and they took heart from the confident air Dick Hamilton assumed. In the days that followed the practice gradually became more and more rigorous, and, as a result, fast, snappy playing became the order of the day. "Have you heard whether or not Haskell will play us?" asked Paul of Dick one night, as they sat in their room studying and waiting for "taps" to sound. "No, I haven't. I meant to ask Hatfield to-day whether he had heard from their manager, but I was so busy drilling a squad of raw recruits that I didn't get a chance. Guess I'll go to his room now and ask him. I'll have time I think." As Dick arose there sounded the mournful yet sweet notes of the bugle that was a signal for "lights" out. "Too late!" exclaimed Paul. "I'll chance it," ventured Dick. "I can cross to his dormitory by the rear path, and the sentries are hardly posted yet. Besides, I guess they won't report me when they know it's football matters. I'm anxious to know." "Better stay here--morning will do," counseled Paul. "No, I'm going, I'll be right back," replied his roommate, and off Dick started before the last notes of the bugle had died away. Rules regarding being out of the academy after taps were very strict, except at certain times when more liberty was allowed. But this was not one of those occasions, and Dick knew he would have to be careful. He did not mind indulging in a few pranks occasionally, but now, as he was on the eleven, and captain as well, it behooved him to be careful, so that he would not be barred from athletics. He swung quietly along the tree-shaded path leading to the dormitory where Hatfield had his rooms. The path was not so well shaded now as in summer, for the trees were almost leafless save for certain oaks, the brown foliage of which rustled in the night wind. "Sounds like a storm," mused the young millionaire. "I hope it keeps clear long enough for the Haskell game--that is if they'll play us." As he strolled along he kept a lookout for any sentries, for sometimes new cadets were picked for this duty, and they took delight in reporting their older comrades. But the coast seemed to be clear. "Guess I'll go see how Grit is, before I go to Hatfield's room," said Dick half aloud, for his pet was now kept in one of the stable barracks. "Poor old fellow, I wish they'd let me keep him with me nights; but they won't."