“Where’s Bob Randall?”
“Search me, Chip. He didn’t turn up for practice. Bet a dollar he’s still sore over not getting elected captain.”
“Nonsense, Clan! He came around finely, congratulated me——”
“Oh, I know all about that. But the galoot got hot all over again, when he got to thinking it over! I know his kind. He goes on impulse.”
Merry turned away. Despite his efforts to convince himself to the contrary, he knew that Clancy was right. Randall “went on impulse.”
“Well, I’ll do the best I can,” thought Merry anxiously. “Bob is too fine a fellow to do this. If I leave Fardale he ought to be captain, I think.”
The first and second teams were at practice on the Fardale ball field. There was an hour left before the drums would sound assembly for supper formation, and Merry was putting his men through their paces.
“I hear there’s no game for Saturday,” said Billy McQuade, joining Merry.
“Right. Had to be canceled. I’m sorry, because I may have to leave next week, and I’d like to play one more game——”
Frank broke off abruptly as the cadet orderly from Colonel Gunn’s office came up and saluted.