Merriwell realized perfectly that what he had undertaken was not going to be any easy task. There was no fun at all in coaching a fellow who had done absolutely no work for almost six weeks, and was, consequently, totally ignorant of what had been gone over so far that term. But this fact did not deter him in the least. He knew that it was the only way by which Hollister could be saved, and, though it meant that every spare moment must be devoted to tutoring Bob for a few weeks at least, he was fond enough of the fellow to go to that extreme.
Hollister’s announcement at the training table that he had to leave the team was one of the hardest things he had ever done. It had the effect of a bombshell on the assembled players.
Instantly the room was in an uproar. The fellows all crowded around him, unable to believe their ears.
“You can’t leave, Bobby!”
“Cut it out, old man, and have another think.”
“Stop your kidding!”
“Thunderation! What’ll we do without you?”
These and a dozen other incredulous exclamations were hurled at the wretched fellow, but Bob persisted in his resolve; and when the men saw that he was really in earnest, they were in despair.
All, that is, save Jarvis Blake. Dick, his eye on the fellow, noticed the sudden expression of amazed incredulity which flashed into his face, to be followed instantly by a look of joy and unmistakable triumph. Evidently he had not expected this turn of affairs, but he was none the less more than satisfied with it.
“I’ll put a spoke in your wheel, my bucko,” Dick muttered fiercely. “All your dirty scheming won’t do you a bit of good.”