"How did that happen?"
"Nobody knows. It's done and that's all there is to it. I'm out of the game for the rest of this season."
"That's too bad. Did Alden really have such a tremendous team?"
"Look at the score. You know what that was, don't you?"
"Yes, I heard. Come on, Will. We'd better be in bed. We'll get Hawley to tell us all about the game some other time. Come on."
The two freshmen at once departed, but when they were in their own room it was not the lost game which was uppermost in their minds and conversation, but the fall of Peter John. And when at last they sought their beds it was with the conviction that Peter John himself would seek them out within a day or two and try to explain how it was that his downfall had occurred. This, they thought, would give them the opportunity they desired, and if the faculty did not discover the matter and take action of their own then they might be able to say or do something to recall Peter John to himself.
On the following day, however, their classmate did not appear, and in the days that followed he did not once come to their room. Mott they had seen, but he had only laughed lightly when he met them and made no reference to the ride he had taken in their taxi.
"I don't believe Peter John knows that we know anything about what happened on his trip," said Foster thoughtfully one day.
"What makes him keep away from us all the time, then?"
"That's so. Probably his conscience isn't in the best of condition. You don't suppose he's waiting for us to make the first move, do you?"