Phil and Milt stiffened with a sense of their responsibility.
"You can trust us," they assured.
Speed Bartlett was quite innocent of any plot against him and quite glad to accept the invitation of his two friends to attend the show. In fact, he welcomed the opportunity as a means of possible relaxation. Coach Brock had spoken highly of the Knute Rockne short subject—declaring it to be extremely educational, particularly as pertained to open field running. Since this was supposed to be Speed's specialty, his curiosity was aroused.
"Strange you fellows should be interested in seeing this same show," mused Speed, on the way over. "It's a good break for me since I'm supposed to see it, anyway."
"Listen, Speed," declared Phil. "We're nuts over football. We'd go almost anywhere within reason to see a game or something interesting about it. And when we read in the paper that one of Knute Rockne's pictures was there ... well, that was enough for us!"
"Clever bird, this fellow, Knute," kidded Milt. "I'd place him next to Coach Brock."
Arriving at Ashby, Phil and Milt parked their car on a side street and were surprised to find a crowd waiting to get seats.
"Hello—they're doing some real business. Must be a great show!" exclaimed Milt, with a wink at Phil.
"Ten minutes after seven," said Speed, a bit disturbed.
"Oh, there's plenty of time," said Phil, "but I've got so in the habit of sitting that I hate to stand."