You're always getting me out of trouble."
Chester shook hands with his brother. He patted the younger boy on the shoulder. Then, turning to Harold, he said crisply, "Let's go."
He looked at Harold Lamb curiously as if he were really seeing him for the first time. Here, thought Chester Trask, was surely not the foolish Freshman who had acted as Cavendish's tackling dummy, who had sat for long, dreary hours on the bench at Tate Field and was even now regarded as the joke of the squad. Why, this Freshman had brains, initiative. He was a real man.
"I'll walk over to your room with you, Lamb," Chester offered. "I need a little air—after this."
"That would be fine," said Harold, delighted and a little awed.
He walked proudly down University Street at half past two in the morning with the handsome, brawny football captain. It was a shame, he thought, that the streets were empty.
Trask was silent for a long time, and then he said with some embarrassment, "I can't begin to thank you. Lamb, for what you've done to-night. It was a fine job. You've saved my brother and me a lot of trouble. I don't doubt but what this Delphine is a perfectly nice girl for some chap. But my fam-
