“That’s fine, Byrd,” said Mr. Detweiler.  “You certainly reflect credit on ’Uncle Sim’!”

“I guess,” observed Bob Chase, “‘Uncle Sim’ would have had a fit if he’d heard that!”

They strolled on together, speaking of the buildings they passed, until, opposite the gymnasium, Mr. Detweiler started to leave them, thought better of it and said:  “By the way, Byrd, I wonder if I was pledged to secrecy the other day.”

“The other day?” repeated Amy questioningly.

“The day I met you and Thayer and—­” He looked doubtfully at Chase.

“Bob’s all right,” Amy reassured him.  “I know when you mean, sir.  But I don’t understand about being pledged—­”

“I’ll tell you.”  Mr. Detweiler looked hurriedly at his watch.  “I happened to hear from Mr. Daley yesterday that your friend Durkin had got in trouble.  You knew that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, it seemed that Mr. Fernald thought Durkin had either picked the quarrel or—­well, we’ll say welcomed it.  Daley told me Durkin was on probation and stood a pretty fair chance of losing a scholarship he was after.  So, as I hadn’t been, as I thought, pledged to secrecy, I told Daley what I knew of the start of the trouble.  That seemed to put a different complexion on the matter and Daley went to Mr. Fernald and told him about it.  Since then I’ve wondered whether I ought to have kept my mouth closed.  Do you mind?”

“Not a bit,” declared Amy heartily.  “I’m mighty glad you did tell.  I wanted to, but Penny wouldn’t hear of it.  He said it would be sneaky, or something like that.  What—­what did Mr. Fernald say, sir?”

“I haven’t heard.  I hope, though, he will see that your friend Durkin couldn’t very well avoid that row on Sunday.  It seemed to me rather too bad that he should lose his chance at the scholarship.  That is why I ‘butted in,’ Byrd.”

“I’m very glad you did, Mr. Detweiler.  I’ll find Penny and see if he’s heard anything.”

Penny, however, was very elusive, and it was not until a few minutes before the game started that Amy finally located him in the top row of the temporary grand-stand.  Even then Amy could only get within shouting distance, but shouting distance sufficed.

“Penny!” called Amy.  “Hi, Penny!”

Penny smiled and waved.

“Had any news?” asked Amy in a confidential shout.

Penny looked blank for an instant.  Then a slow smile lighted his face and he nodded vehemently.

“Yes,” he called.  “This morning, Byrd!  It’s all right about—­you know!”

“Awfully glad,” replied Amy.  “Mr. Detweiler just told me!  See you after the game.”

“Sit down, Amy!” said a friend in the stand.

“Yes, clear the aisle, please, Byrd,” called another.

Amy smiled and hurried back to his seat next to Bob Chase just as the two teams, having warmed up and experimented with what little breeze was cutting across the gridiron, withdrew to their respective sides of the field.  A final long-drawn cheer for Brimfield issued from the south stand, was answered by a more thunderous one from the opposite seats, the teams lined up, the captains waved their hands to the referee and Claflin’s left guard sent the nice new yellow ball arching away against the sky.