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 Once Lanny intercepted an inquiring look aimed at him by one of the group and for the first time experienced an uncomfortable realization of his role. After all, when he came to consider it, there was something sort of underhand about what he and Chester were doing, or, at any rate, it seemed so to him at that moment. He glanced at his companion and found Chester staring frowningly at the squad of brown-and-white players who were trotting past in signal practice. Perhaps feeling Lanny's eyes on him, he turned.

"I'm not crazy about this business," he growled. "It's a bit too sneaky."

"Nonsense," replied Lanny in low tones, as anxious to persuade himself as Chester, "we've got a perfect right to come here and see these chaps play if we want to, same as anyone else has."

"Just the same," responded the other stubbornly, "I don't like it. Next time Dick may send someone else. I don't like being a spy."

"You're not," returned Lanny half-heartedly, "you're a scout."

"Same thing," Chester growled. "And for goodness sake don't say anything to let on, Lanny. Those fellows next to you have been staring and