Dolph turned pale and stared hard at the lad who had won the game.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “Do you insinuate that I——”
“I insinuate nothing,” interrupted Don, hotly; “but I think what I like. We didn’t lose the game to-day, Renwood, for all of the traitor on the team.”
There could be no misunderstanding his meaning. Dolph’s voice shook as he said:
“You are insinuating, and I want to tell you now that if you mean to cast that slander on me, you lie!”
Don was on his feet, and he had fallen back against the board wall of the dressing-room. His right hand gripped something that was standing there, and then the demon of uncontrollable anger possessed and mastered him.
The next moment, with a stick of wood, he struck Renwood to the floor!
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE CONFESSION.
All alone, his face drawn and white, moving like one in a trance, the hero of the football game went down the hill. It seemed strange that he was not in the midst of a throng of admirers, all eager to be near him and bask in the sunlight of his glory. It seemed strange that not one of his late companions on the field accompanied him. But it seemed stranger still that his eyes were full of despair and his appearance was that of one who had met crushing and overwhelming defeat.
He had met defeat in his soul, and he knew it; but out of that defeat was to come the great victory of his life.