He was turning this over in his mind all through supper, and afterward, walking along Church Street with Brad, Keran, and several others, it was still puzzling him.
All at once his eyes fell on Kenny himself, walking down the street on the other side, in earnest conversation with a slim, brisk man of about thirty.
“Who’s that fellow with Kenny?” he asked quickly.
They all glanced over the way, and Phil Keran answered the question.
“Clarence Carr,” he said readily. “He’s Archie Carr’s brother. He came in to see me the other night, and Kenny met him there. Nice chap, too. Crazy about football. He played at Brown. He and Jack seem to hit it off pretty well.”
Dick took in the man with a swift, appraising glance. He remembered Archie Carr perfectly as a good football player and red-hot Yale man. There was absolutely no reason why he should question his brother’s loyalty and integrity, but still a tiny germ of doubt was generated in his mind at that moment—something which sprang into being quite without rhyme or reason, and which persisted in remaining despite its seeming absurdity and incongruity.
CHAPTER XXVIII
IN DESPERATE STRAITS.
Twenty-four hours later Dick Merriwell was confident that some malign influence was at work on Jack Kenny’s mind combating his own strenuous efforts to bring about concord between him and Don Tempest. Some one was doing his level best to keep the quarter back constantly stirred up in his ire against the captain of the varsity, so that it required every bit of Merriwell’s patience and perseverance to prevent an open break.
He had arrived at this conclusion simply from a keen sense of observation. He knew Jack Kenny well enough to be perfectly sure that he was not the sort of fellow to harbor a grudge to the extent which he was fostering this one. He was a man who would be apt to flare up in a swift outburst of wrath, but it was not at all like him to develop this sullen, sneering, backbiting streak which had been apparent for the past few days.