“I don’t see why he should be any better than Sumner!” said the captain, defiantly.
“I don’t see how he could be any worse!” ejaculated Talbot.
“I don’t urge it,” said Mr. Adams, kindly. “I merely suggest it for consideration.”
“He couldn’t run the game as Jack does,” said Harrison.
“He could save touch-downs as Jack doesn’t,” asserted Talbot. “I think as much of Jack as you do, but my thinking a lot of him can’t make him play well.”
“He has been on the team all the season. It is hard to put him off now.”
“No one stays on the crew because he’s been on all the season—I’ll tell you that in advance!” blurted Pete, savagely. “I’ll fire myself if there are four better men.”
Harrison smiled faintly. “It’s easy to say that now. Wait till spring.”
“Sh! Here he comes,” exclaimed Yards, speaking for the first time. “We’ll think it over during the night.”
Sumner came oscillating down the aisle from the seat which he had occupied, dismally brooding alone, during half the journey. He stopped at the end of the double seat and addressed Harrison, but his gaze, as he spoke, wandered uneasily away over the captain’s head; while his flushed cheek and hurried tones betrayed the strain under which he had been laboring.