"But I guess dad will make out," concluded our hero. "He has been in tight places before, and has always pulled through." Mr. Hamilton set off to see Enos Duncaster, and Dick made his father promise to take dinner with him that night at the Sacred Pig where an impromptu spread had been arranged in honor of the visit of the millionaire. Major Webster Colonel Masterly, and several of the academy faculty had promised to attend. "It won't be much on the 'eat' line for you fellows and me," Dick had warned them, "we can't break training until after we have wiped out the disgrace of the Blue Hill defeat, and that won't be for two weeks. Then we'll have a feast that is a feast." "Good!" cried Innis Beeby for he was fond of feasts, and suffered under the rigorous football regime. Dick was waiting for his father's return from Mr. Duncaster's house that evening, sitting in his room trying to study. He was not making much headway for he was thinking of many things--of the game on the morrow--of the one with Blue Hill, and of what success his father would meet with. Paul Drew was out at a society meeting. There came a knock on the door, a timid hesitating sort of a knock, and Dick, wondering who it could be, called out: "Come in!" Sam Porter entered, first looking around the apartment to see that Dick's roommate was not present. "Are you busy, Hamilton?" he asked, and there was that in his voice that caused Dick to wonder at him. There was a thickness and a sort of leering familiarity that was unusual. "No, I'm not busy. Come in and make yourself comfortable. There's an easy chair," and Dick knocked a pile of books from one to make room for his visitor. "I want to ask a favor of you, Hamilton, and I want you to grant it--understand?" and Porter looked sharply at the captain. "I want you to promise." "I can't promise, until I hear what it is," said the young millionaire good-naturedly. "Yes you can--if you want to--un'stand?" Sam Porter leaned forward. "You want to grant me this favor--un'stand," went on Porter, "or you'll be sorry. Sorry, see?" "What is it?" asked Dick, trying not to show the disgust he felt. "I want to play in that Mooretown game to-morrow--play full game--un'stand? I don't want to sit on side lines like some poor Indian wrapped up in a blanket--I want to go in from start an' wallop them fellers. Un'stand? I want to play. You can put me in as well as not. Will you? It's favor, Ham, an' if you don't do it, you'll be sorry!" "Why?" asked Dick, for there was a vague threat in the tones of his caller. "Well, nev' min'. Will you let me play?" Porter was not himself. Dick had never seen him thus, and he feared lest some of the teachers discover his condition. He thought it best to temporize with him. "I'll see what I can do," he promised good-naturedly. "Come and see me in the morning. You'd better go to bed now." "Go to bed?" and Porter's voice rose. "Why, wha's matter me? Ain't I a'right?"