Perhaps it was because he realized that he was being narrowly-watched, not only by Tom but by Bert and Jack as well. In fact Jack, at the beginning of practice, had taken the opportunity to whisper into Sam's ear:
"None of your funny business now!"
"What do you mean?" asked Sam with a show of innocence.
"Oh, you know very well what I mean," insisted Jack. "If you fumble the ball when you're passing it to me, or Tom or Bert, I'll see you afterward, and it won't be a pleasant interview, either," and Jack playfully dug Sam in the ribs.
"Here! What are you doing?" demanded the quarterback.
"That's a sample of what to expect," said Jack grimly.
And so the practice went on, hard, and fast, and the hearts of the coach, captain and players were glad, for they felt that Elmwood Hall was coming back into her own. Even hazing, which went on intermittently, ceased in favor of football practice.
Meanwhile nothing more had been heard about the hay fire, the poisoning of the horses, nor about Sam's trouble with the old farmer. In regard to the latter, Sam had boastingly explained to his chums, whence it sifted to our friends, that he had gotten the best of Appleby.
"The old codger!" Sam exclaimed. "I didn't hurt his land anyhow. It was so all-fired dark that I couldn't see where I was going."
"What were you doing over there?" asked one of his few admirers—one who hoped for a ride in Sam's auto.