But he slackened his pace somewhat and did not try to shake off his unwelcome companion.
“They were saying every old thing,” asserted Leon. “I tell you, they gave you a raking down behind your back.”
“That didn’t hurt me any. I wasn’t on their old team, so they couldn’t blame me for their defeat.”
“But they did, just the same.”
Don stopped short and looked at Bentley, his face growing hard.
“How the dickens could they do that?” he snapped.
“Why, they said you acted like a fool in getting your back up and leaving the team. They said they were glad enough to get rid of you, but they’d ought to have fired you in the first place. As it was, you left at a bad time, making it necessary to shift the men around, so there was no time to get the team back in shape, and, for that reason, you were responsible for the loss of the game.”
Leon told this lie glibly and with a show of truthfulness that aroused no suspicion in the mind of the hearer; but the falsehood did the work Bentley wished it to do, and the black look deepened on the rather handsome face of Don Scott, marring his good looks and making his aspect repellent.
“Who said this, Bentley?” he demanded, harshly. “Was it that treacherous snake, Renwood?”
“Sure thing,” nodded Leon. “He blames it all onto you, but he ain’t the only one. The others agreed with him, and I told them what I thought of it. I don’t often get right up and speak out in meeting,” the fellow went on, “but I couldn’t keep still this time, so I said enough to get them all mad at me. Now, I hear that they’re going to kick me out again. What do you think of that, Don?”