“What did he tell?”
“He said: ‘Our right end is weak, and the backs can’t catch punts for a cent. As you say your men can’t kick, you’ll have to keep hammering at our right end.’”
“Is that all?” panted Don.
“Oh, Winston said: ‘Much obliged, old man; I won’t forget it.’ And Renwood returned: ‘That’s all right; I haven’t forgotten what you did for me once.’ That was all.”
“It was enough!” Don snarled, driving his clenched right fist into the open palm of his left hand with a cracking smack. “I’m beginning to see through that dirty dog Renwood! At first I didn’t understand why he should do anything to damage the team with which he was playing, but now it’s plain enough that Winston has done him some favor that he is trying to return in this treacherous manner. And Sterndale thinks more of him than of me! Did you tell Sterndale about this?”
“I tried to, but he wouldn’t hear a word against Renwood, and told me I’d better keep still. I saw it was no use, and so I closed up.”
“He’s a fool!” raved Scott. “I’d like to tell him so!”
“That wouldn’t do any good. The only way to convince him is to show Renwood up so he can’t get around it.”
“How can that be done?”
“I don’t know now,” admitted Leon; “but I may find a way.”