“Don’t you like him?”
“No,” answered Don, speaking the truth this time, at least; “I do not like him.”
“That’s unpleasant,” said Dr. Scott, noting with regret the dark look on the boy’s face, “but you must not permit that to keep you from doing your level best in practice and in the game. At times it is necessary for us to put aside all personal likes and dislikes and join heartily with friends or foes in working together for a result. The boy who permits his personal feelings to rule his conduct in baseball or football will never make the highest type of player, and there is danger that he will not be very successful when he leaves school and enters on a business or professional career, for he will be ruled by prejudices and likings and not by sound common sense and reason. My boy, I want you to promise me that, for all you may dislike one or more of your associates on the eleven, you will join with the others in doing your level best under every condition to win from your opponents. Promise me this, Don.”
The youth choked a little and turned his eyes away. It was too late now, he fancied, to reveal to his father the exact condition of affairs, and so the deception must be continued at any cost of torture to his outraged conscience. Far better would it have been had he nerved himself to speak the truth without further subterfuge and falsehood.
“I’m sure you are the kind of a boy to think first of winning, regardless of your personal feelings,” asserted the doctor, not, however, without a shade of anxiety in his voice. “That being the case, it is your express duty to do everything you can honestly and squarely do to assist toward the desired result, even though it is necessary to sacrifice yourself in order to aid an enemy on your own side to make a successful play. I want you to promise that you will do so if the occasion arises.”
“That’s easy,” thought Don, “for I shall not play, and so the occasion will not arise.” And he gave the desired promise.
He took the medicine which his father gave him, as he could not easily avoid doing so, and then retired to his own room, relieved and thankful to escape. In the seclusion of his room, he seemed to turn in anger and disgust on himself.
“Oh, you’re a pretty cheap creature, Don Scott!” he muttered, fiercely. “You’re getting to be a slick liar! How long will you be able to keep it up? What will he think of you when he finds out the whole truth?”
The following night, he remained away from home during the time the eleven was practicing on the field, being forced to accept Bentley for a companion. But Don found that by association he was learning to tolerate Leon far easier than at first, for all that some traits and actions of the fellow still jarred on his nerves. Misery loves company, it is said, and both boys had once been members of the eleven, so they sought a secluded spot where they could smoke and talk and pass the time away till Don dared venture home.
Scott did not stop at one cigarette now; he smoked three, and would have smoked more but that a certain unpleasant sensation warned him to desist.