"But I'm not going to give up," he declared. "I have some other irons in the fire, and I may be able to forge them to the shape I want. It's going to be hard work, though, and it would be much easier if I had the Duncaster stock. By the way, you say that Porter chap, whose father is working against us, attends here?" "Yes, but I fancy he won't after to-morrow," said Dick significantly. He was right. Sam Porter's room was vacant the next day, and he left no word of where he had gone. He knew his trick had been discovered, and that it had gone for naught. Several days later he sent a note to his former crony Weston, asking to see him, but Weston refused. "I was his friend once," he said to Dick, "but I'm done with him now. I'm for the football team first, last and forever!" "And you're one of our best players!" exclaimed the young captain heartily, for he appreciated what it meant to break with Porter. Football matters at Kentfield were now drawing to a close. There was but one more game to play--that of Blue Hill, but in the eyes of the cadets it was the most important of the season because of what the outcome carried with it. There was a tie for the championship between our hero's football eleven and that of the academy which had sent the insulting letter that resulted in such a change of policy. "Get ready for the last week of practice," ordered Coach Martin, on the Monday following the Mooretown game. "It's going to be hard, too, but I don't want any one to over-train. Take it a bit easy when you find yourself tiring." "Yes, we want you in the pink of perfection Saturday," added Mr. Spencer. There followed days of the most careful preparation. It was like getting ready for the final great battle between two rival armies. Football suits were looked to, for a rip in a jacket or a sweater might spoil a play at a critical point. The lads replaced the worn cleats on their shoes, that they might brace themselves when the Blue Hill players hurled themselves at the Kentfield line. As for their physical condition, the cadets were looked over by the trainers and coaches as if they were race horses. Tender ankles were carefully treated and bandaged. Sprains were rubbed in the most scientific manner, and did any one complain of a little indisposition the coaches were up in alarm. And the boys were in the "pink of condition." Never had they felt finer nor more able to do battle for the championship. Never were they more confident, for, somehow, Dick had talked them into the firm belief that they were going to win. As for our hero, he had a worry that he kept to himself, and, now that his father had returned to Hamilton Corners, the lad let it prey on his mind even more than he had when the millionaire was at the academy.