As he was moping in his room, Toots came along, whistling "Three Cheers for the Red, White and Blue," and giving a succession of bugle calls.
"What? Not at the game, Mister Hamilton?" asked the jolly janitor.
"No; I'm a prisoner."
"That's nothing. Many a time I got out of the guard house. There's no one around now, and I won't look, nor squeal. You can easily slip out, and go to the game."
"No," said Dick, though the temptation was strong. "By the way, Toots, did you ever call to mind about this picture?" and he showed him the one of missing Bill Handlee, which was still on the mantle.
"No," replied Toots, again striving hard to remember about it. "It's clean gone from me, Mr. Hamilton. But, are you sure you don't want to escape? I can find some work to do at the other side of the barracks, if you want to go."
"No. I'll stay."
And stay Dick did, all that long afternoon. It was dusk when the players and the other cadets came back, and there was an ominous silence about their return.
"It doesn't sound as if they'd won," thought Dick. "If they did they're celebrating very quietly."
Paul Drew came in a little later.
"How about the game?" asked Dick eagerly.
