When the scoreless game was finished, the regulars started grimly for the gymnasium with the second eleven skylarking around them and joshing them at every step of the way. Frank jumped into the grand stand for his coat and Ballard’s, and then joined his chums on the way to the bathrooms.
“What do you think of the performance, Chip?” queried Clancy ruefully.
“I think,” was the reply, “that we’ll have to put in several days of mighty hard work. Not only that, but I’m going to make one or two changes in the line-up. I——”
He suddenly came to a dead stop. He had been groping in the pockets of his coat for the personal property he had left in them. A blank look overspread his face.
“What’s to pay, old man?” queried Ballard.
“I’ve lost what money I had, somewhere,” was the answer. “Probably it dropped out of my coat, back there in the grand stand.”
“How much?” asked Clancy.
“A matter of thirty dollars, Clan; twenty-five in bills and some change.”
Clancy whistled, and Ballard looked ominous.
“I don’t see how it could have dropped out,” said Ballard. “You’re not usually so careless as all that, Chip.”