“But I don’t believe it, Scott,” the big leader of the village boys went on. “You have misjudged Dolph Renwood. He feels as bad as anybody over our defeat, and he’ll work hard to help us win, Saturday. But there’s a weakness in our team. We want you back at half, and then we can put Smith on the end of the line, where he was in the first place. Can’t you let bygones be bygones, old man, and come back and help pull us out of the hole? You can bet your life I’ll appreciate it if you do! Now, don’t say you won’t, Don! I’ve favored you before now, and I’m ready to do it again. Of course you’ll do this for me! I know you will!”
There was something almost irresistible in Sterndale’s manner, so that Don found it nearly impossible to refuse his entreaty; but the doctor’s son was not to be turned thus easily from his determination to keep off the eleven as long as Renwood had anything to do with it, and he grimly shook his head.
“I can’t do it,” he muttered, sullenly. “It’s no use to ask me.”
“Not even for me? Not even to save Rockspur from being defeated by Highland?”
“Not even for anything!”
Dick was disappointed and nettled, but he held his anger in check, though he betrayed his disappointment plainly enough. Almost always the village boys were ready to obey his beck and call, and he found it decidedly provoking to have Scott refuse in this case to come back onto the eleven at his request.
“You’ll think better of it,” the captain said, not willing to give up defeated. “I’m your friend; I’ve proved it, too.”
Dick did not say outright that he had proved it by not going to Don’s father about the ruined suits and destroyed football, but his meaning was plain enough, and Scott cried:
“You’re no friend of mine if you think I did that dirty piece of business! That was one of Renwood’s tricks, as you’ll find out some day.”
“I’m not saying you did it,” the captain instantly cut in. “I don’t know who did it. I don’t want to think that either you or Renwood would do a thing like that.”