In his eagerness to make his point of view plain, Dick had spoken rather more emphatically than he intended. He realized this, and went on quickly:
“You mustn’t mind if I’m a bit sharp, Don. I haven’t minced matters because I wanted to put things plainly to you. If we can only keep things running smoothly and prevent such disagreements as this, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that we’ll put it all over Harvard. But you know yourself that with a team at loggerheads, when every fellow is taking sides and questioning the ability of the man at the helm, there isn’t a ghost of a show for good work. Think it over, old fellow, and see if I’m not right. It’s only three days now before the game. See if you can’t manage to hold in for that short time, and we won’t have any more trouble.”
Tempest looked up with a wry smile on his face.
“I reckon I’ll have to,” he said slowly, “or there won’t be any team left. How about Kenny, though? Will he come back?”
Merriwell’s lips straightened out in a firm line.
“I’ll see to him,” he said quickly. “I don’t think there’s any doubt about that.”
Fullerton gave a grunt of relief as they started toward the track house. Thanks to Merriwell, it looked as if serious trouble had been averted.
Jack Kenny did not appear at the training table that night. His absence was not commented upon by the other men, who knew the reason quite well.
There was an atmosphere of doubt and suspense over everything, which persistently refused to be cleared away. Had the quarter back left the team for good? Had he been fired off? What had taken place between Merriwell, Tempest, and the coaches after the majority of the men had left the field that afternoon?
These and a dozen other vital questions were whispered by various fellows to their neighbors; but no one felt like propounding them to the principals in the affair, who did not volunteer any information.