“That’s sloppy,” he commented, handing the paper back. “That reporter ought to write up one more game of football and then go off somewhere and die. He didn’t get half of it correct.”
As soon as possible, he left the table and the house.
“Ginger! I thought the jig was up!” he muttered, hastening away. “It will be up next Saturday.” Then he halted, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his eyes fastened on the ground. “It’ll be all up, unless——” There was another pause, and, all at once, as if relieved, he cried: “I’ve got to do it, that’s all! If I do, he may never know I’ve fooled him.”
Then he lost no time in finding Sterndale and informing him that he had decided to play on the team in the game against Highland the following Saturday.
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE PROOF AGAINST RENWOOD.
“What’s this I hear, Scott?” cried Leon Bentley, rushing up to him as he appeared at the academy that noon. “They say you practiced with the team this morning. I was away—went to see my aunt over at Freeport last night, and didn’t get back in time for school this forenoon. They lie about you, don’t they? You didn’t practice with the team, did you?”
“What if I did?” demanded Don.
“Why, hang it! you said you wouldn’t—you said nothing could induce you to! You gave me fits for going back.”
“Well, you’re not the only fellow who has a privilege to change his mind.”
“Then you have?” gasped Leon. “I never thought it of you! After all Renwood’s said, too! You’ll be chumming with him next.”