This caused a burst of laughter, and somebody shouted:
“Hooray for Uncle Ike! He always stands by the boys! Give him a rouser, fellows! Ready—let ’er go!”
They did “let ’er go,” and the cheer for the old man must have warmed his heart—that rare old heart that had never forgotten its youth, and thus, with advancing years, had found its owner a place in the affections of the generations that followed him. In acknowledgment of the tribute he bowed, with uncovered head, and some dust, or the sun, or something got into his eyes, causing him to brush his hand across them while he laughed.
Youth once lost may never be regained; but youth firmly planted in the heart may remain there, though the body wither beneath the blighting touch of age.
In their heavily-padded suits the boys looked stout and stocky. A ball being tossed in among them, they began to chase it about and fall on it as a sort of warming-up.
Don Scott was there, looking rather pale, his dark hair and eyes accentuating the whiteness of his face. His worriment and a restless night had told on him, and his manner seemed full of lassitude!
Don had not made a confession to his father. With the passing of the weary night also passed his strength and determination to reveal everything and seek forgiveness. He told himself that he was blameless in the thing of which he was suspected, and time would prove him so; therefore, it might simply add to his father’s belief in his guilt if he told him then of his deceptions and falsehoods. He resolved to wait until it was plainly proven that he was in no way concerned with the forgery of the check, promising himself that he would then make a clean breast of everything.
So, as much as possible, he avoided his father, which was not difficult, the doctor being very busy that Saturday forenoon. Don had expected that Bentley would be reported in custody that morning, but, to his surprise and dissatisfaction, nothing had been heard of either Leon or the deputy sheriff since one left the village hotly pursued by the other the night before.
As Don paused on the field, adjusting his belt, his eyes roved over the great throng of people who were roaring a greeting to the young gladiators of the gridiron. While flags, hats and hands were waving it was almost impossible to recognize anybody in the crowd, but when the commotion subsided somewhat, he saw two girls in the midst of the Rockspur Academy delegation on the blue-and-white bleachers, and one of them seemed looking straight at him. Their eyes met; she smiled; she waved her flag in his direction.
“That can’t be for me!” thought Don, with a little color coming to his cheeks. “Zadia Renwood would not do that for me.”