He put in an hour’s work with Hollister after dinner, and, laying out enough to keep the man busy that afternoon, he got out the car and drove down to the field.
His first move was to seek out Tempest and Bill Fullerton, and for ten minutes the three men remained in close confab. When they separated there was a look of extreme satisfaction on Dick’s face. He hurried into the athletic house to get into his togs.
A little later, when the men were all assembled on the field, Don Tempest held up his hand for silence.
“You fellows all know that Hollister has been obliged to leave the team,” he said quietly. “You also know why. It’s something which can’t be helped, but I’m sure you will agree with me that it hits us pretty hard and will make a big hole in the line. I’m sorry it couldn’t have been postponed until after the game on Saturday, but since that was impossible we’ll just have to make the best of it. In regard to filling his place——”
He hesitated and his eyes wandered over the eager, expectant faces of the subs. Many of them knew that there was no possible chance of their being picked for the important position, but there were three or four who evidently had hopes.
Jarvis Blake had more than hopes, if one could judge from the look of assurance on his face. There was plainly small doubt in his mind that he would be the lucky man, and Dick watched him with a distinct feeling of satisfaction.
“In talking it over,” Tempest continued, “we have decided that Keran had better try out for end until further notice.”
Blake gave a gasp of dismay. The blow was so sudden and so absolutely unexpected that, for an instant, he could not believe his ears.
Then his face turned scarlet, his eyes flashed, and he took a quick step forward. Dick was watching him quietly.
“I think——” began the big, blond fellow, speaking with evident difficulty.