“I’m afraid you all lost your heads,” said Dick. “It may do the team some good.”
“How can that be?”
“A team that can’t take defeat isn’t fit to win victories. An occasional failure acts like tonic on an ambitious person. Let’s call this a good dose of tonic for the team.”
“Call it that if you like,” muttered Brad. “It tasted bitter enough, anyhow.”
CHAPTER XLVIII.
WAS HE SINCERE?
The following day being Sunday, the boys were given a chance to rest. It was a gloomy, sullen set that appeared at training table, and all efforts to arouse them seemed wasted. One fellow was missing. Kates was reported ill.
Dick found an opportunity to hunt Sam up and talk to him. Kates would have avoided Merriwell, but he could not do so, and he faced Dick with a crestfallen air of shame.
“Are you really ill, Sam?” Dick questioned.
“You bet I am,” was the answer. “I’m downright sick. I haven’t been right for a day or two, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know it.”