bent his knee up and down. "It does feel better, Amy. Thanks." "Of course it does. I'm a fine little massewer. Let's go and eat." But the next morning that knee was stiff and painful and although Amy again administered to it, it was all Clint could do to hobble to Wendell for breakfast. "Boots" sternly demanded an immediate examination and an hour later Clint was bandaged about his knee like a mummy and told to keep away from practice for several days and not to use his leg more than he had to. He limped out of the Physical Director's room in the gymnasium with the aid of a cane which Mr. Conklin had donated and with a dark scowl on his face. "Of all the mean luck!" he muttered disgustedly. "Just when I was going well, too! Now, I suppose, Robbins will get my place, hang him! Bet you this settles me for the rest of the season!" CHAPTER XIII AMY WINS A CUP In the afternoon Clint hobbled down to the tennis courts to watch the final match in the tournament between Amy and Holt. They were hard at it when he arrived and half a hundred enthusiasts were looking on and applauding. Clint didn't play tennis and thought it something of a waste of time. But today he had his eyes opened somewhat. Amy was a brilliant player for his years, and Holt, who was a substitute end on the varsity football team, was scarcely less accomplished. In fact, Holt had secured the lead when Clint reached the court and the score of the first set was 5-2 in his favour. "Byrd hasn't found himself yet," volunteered a boy next to Clint. "He lost two games on his service. Banged the balls into the net time after time. He'll get down to work presently, though, I guess." Even as Clint's informant ended there came a burst of handclapping and Harry Westcott, who was umpiring, announced: "The games are 5--3. Holt leads." Amy had the service and secured two aces at once, Holt returning twice into the net. Then a double fault put the score 30--15. Holt got the next service and lobbed. Amy ran up and smashed it safe into the further corner of the court. Again Holt tried lobbing, and this time he got away with it, for Amy drove the ball out. With the score 40--30, Amy served a sizzling ball that Holt failed to handle and the games were 5--4. The boy beside Clint chuckled. "He's getting down to work now," he said.