“Say, don’t let it get out—I mean my part in it!” begged Jerry. “I’d be jugged if it were known.”
“Oh, we’ll keep it dark,” promised Bart. “The faculty will never know.”
It is hard to say whether this state of affairs existed long, but one is inclined to think that some, at least the proctor, must have suspected. But he could do nothing, for Professor Baldwin had remained away of his own accord. And he was the dean.
“Say, why do you want to get so thick with that Jerry Hopkins?” asked Frank of Bart that evening.
“Because he did me a big favor. I’d never have been able to play in the game to-morrow if he hadn’t held that exam off the way he did.”
“Um,” was all Frank said.
That Thanksgiving Day game with Kenwell was a good one, though at first, when the military lads rolled up two touchdowns and a goal against Boxwood Hall, it looked black for the latter. And then Bart cut loose, and in each of the second, third and fourth quarters made a touchdown, while another was scored on a forward pass, and thus Boxwood Hall humbled her ancient enemy.
“That’s the way!”
“Whoop her up!”