“But what’s the odds,” smiled Merry, “as long as they were going to keep me in reserve. There are other men who will fill my place.”
“There’s no other man living who can fill your place!” exclaimed Bart.
“Thank you, old man. That’s what you think. It’s plain there are others who do not think that way.”
“They’re fools! We’re done for, Merriwell! We can’t beat Harvard without you! I’ve had my say, and they can do what they like about it so far as I am concerned. I don’t want to play.”
“Don’t talk that way, old man! You must help Yale win! Think how I shall wait for news of the game! If Yale is defeated again this year I’ll be the sorest man on the campus. I’ll be sorer than I am now!”
“That’s being loyal!” muttered Jack Diamond. “Talk about patriotism—that’s it!”
“It shows the kind of a heart he carries round in his bosom,” said Rattleton, in an aside.
“Doctors told me I must keep still,” said Frank. “Asked ’em if I couldn’t get out to go to the game, and they shook their heads. It will be a tough Thanksgiving for me this year.”
“It’ll be tough for Yale,” grunted Browning.
They talked with Frank awhile, and then, one by one and in little groups, they drifted out. The report went abroad that Merriwell’s rib was not broken, but that he was hurt so bad that he could not leave his room for a week.