It was seven-thirty before the three patrons from Medford were escorted to seats and then it was to discover that the Knute Rockne feature had just finished.
"Tough luck," Milt whispered. "But it'll start the next show. We're all right."
The three then settled down to enjoy the feature picture and time sped quickly. It was ten after nine that the Knute Rockne short subject next flashed on the screen and its interest was compelling from the start. The two-reeler was over at nine-forty, much to Speed's concern when he discovered the time.
"Holy smoke!" he cried. "We've got twenty minutes to drive twenty miles. You fellows'll never make it!"
"We'll try!" declared Phil, optimistically, as they rushed for the car. "Gosh, where did that time go to?"
"Won't make much diff if we are a few minutes late," said Milt, reassuringly. "Coach won't hold you to account on this."
"But he made a point of saying we had to be back on time if we went," Speed recalled.
"Sure—he's got to keep his discipline up," rejoined Phil, sliding behind the wheel and working the starter. "What's the matter with this thing? Have I flooded the carburetor?"
The engine had refused to respond.
"That's probably what's the trouble," diagnosed Milt. "Turn off your gas entirely."