“But they had the advantage and they just fooled with us. They were playing against the wind, too, same as we were in the first half. But, you see, we couldn’t do anything, even though we had the wind with us. Oh, this game has shown up Renwood’s coaching in great style!”
“What did Renwood do?”
“Nothing at all that helped us any. Why, he actually blocked Smith once and spoiled a run that might have meant a touchdown. That was early in the game, when we had the ball after Highland’s first goal. Of course, it seemed like an accident that Renwood jumped square in front of Smith, but I know it was nothing of the kind. After that, when Highland had made a good lead, it wasn’t necessary for him to spoil any of our plays, for he saw we weren’t in the game, anyhow.”
“Then you think it was his intention to throw the game, in case it was close and he found an opportunity?”
“I don’t think anything about it, I know it!” declared Bentley, as he produced a package of cigarettes and prepared to smoke.
“Hold on!” came sharply from Don; “you can’t do that in here.”
“Eh? Why not?”
“Father would smell the smoke. Put them up.”
“But I’m dying for a whiff.”
“You’ll have to die or go outside. I’m not fooling. I won’t have one of those things lighted in here.”