With eager, trembling fingers, Keran helped him lace his jacket. Rudolph Rose staggered up from where he lay full length on a bench, and, dropping down on the floor, laced up his shoes. Neither of them spoke a word, for words were unnecessary. They understood.
In a miraculously short time Bob was ready, and, snatching up a nose guard, he tore out of the house.
Bill Fullerton, his face black as a thundercloud, was talking to Tempest on the side lines. The brief intermission was almost over as Bob dashed up to them.
“I want to go in, Don!” he exclaimed.
Both men looked at him in astonishment.
“I thought——” Tempest began.
“Never mind that,” Hollister interrupted. “I’ve got to go in! That’s the only way. The fellows have gone all to pieces since Merriwell hurt himself!”
Still the captain of the varsity hesitated. He knew quite well of the promise Hollister had made Merriwell that he would not play football again during his college course.
“I swear to you, Don, by all that’s holy,” Bob said earnestly, “that if you let me play out this game I’ll never touch football again! It’s only fifteen minutes, Don! Just fifteen little minutes! If I sit here watching it, I shall go mad. Let me play, Don.”
His pleading voice quivered with the emotion which was tearing him.