It didn’t seem hopeful to Pat but it was better than nothing. Returning for his coat to his room in the Writers’ Building he was in time to pick up a plainting telephone.

‘This is Evylyn,’ said a fluttering voice. ‘I can’t get rid of it this afternoon. There’s cars on every road —’

‘I can’t talk about it here,’ said Pat quickly, ‘I got to go over to U.W.C. on a notion.’

‘I’ve tried,’ she wailed, ‘— and tried! And every time, some car comes along —’

‘Aw, please!’ He hung up — he had enough on his mind.

For years Pat had followed the deeds of ‘the Trojums’ of U.S.C. and the almost as fabulous doings of ‘the Roller Coasters’, who represented the Univ. of the Western Coast. His interest was not so much physiological, tactical or intellectual as it was mathematical — but the Rollers had cost him plenty in their day — and thus it was with a sense of vague proprietorship that he stepped upon the half De Mille, half Aztec campus.

He located Kresge who conducted him to Superintendent Kit Doolan. Mr Doolan, a famous ex-tackle, was............