"We lost," said Paul. "We might have won, only Henderson, who had a chance to score a winning touchdown, couldn't run fast enough with the ball, and he was downed on the five-yard line, too late for another try to cross the Mooretown goal. I wish you had played. You'd have won the game for us."
"Oh, I guess not."
"Yes, you would. Captain Rutledge admitted as much."
"Well, maybe I'll get a chance next time."
"There won't be any next time this year. The game is over for the season, and Mooretown did us two contests out of three. It's too bad. The fellows are all cut up over it. Say, have you any idea who mussed up your bureau? Was it Dutton?"
"No, it wasn't Dutton," said Dick quietly, and that was all he could be induced to say about it.
Discipline, which had been somewhat relaxed during the football season, was now in force again, and the cadets found they were kept very busy with their studies and drills. Dick was standing well in his classes, but he made no more progress in gaining the friendship of the students, other than a few freshmen.
Even Glen showed no disposition to make much of Dick. He did not repay the money borrowed, on the plea that he was in debt quite heavily, and had lost much on the football game. Still he had the cheek to ask Dick for more, and when the young millionaire properly refused Glen called him a "tight-wad," and sneered at him, making no pretense of retaining his friendship.
One night, following several spreads, to none of which was Dick invited, he wrote a rather discouraged letter to his father, hinting that he wished he could attend some other school.
In due time there came an answer, part of which was as follows: