“What the mischief do you want me to do with it?” he snapped. “I can’t very well pass it until Baxter gets within reach.”
“You know what I mean,” returned the captain shortly. “All ready, now.”
Kenny ground his teeth and bit his lips to keep back the retort which was trembling on them.
“Gee! I’d like to give you one that would spoil that ugly mug of yours!” he thought angrily.
This time his movements were like chain lightning. Snatching the ball from Baulsir, he slammed it back so swiftly that Baxter, who was not quite ready for it, clutched wildly for it, stumbled, staggered, and only retained his hold on the slippery pigskin by a tremendous effort. There was a momentary delay which gave the scrub a chance to lunge forward, and the result was that the pass netted barely a yard, before the down.
Tempest’s eyes flashed.
“Worse than before!” he exclaimed. “Why don’t you use a little judgment, Kenny?”
The quarter back whirled around and faced him.
“Why don’t you give me a chance?” he retorted. “The way you’ve been playing the game lately, it looks to me as if you didn’t expect any one to have a grain of sense except yourself.”
Tempest’s face hardened. He opened his lips as though he were about to make a sharp retort and then shut them with a snap.