“Mr. Renwood seems to think there are other men on the team who had better get off, or who will be fired off,” said Bentley.
“How do you know I think so?” asked Dolph, quickly.
“Why, haven’t you said as much?”
“No. I may have said that some were not much good, but I said nothing about their getting off or being fired off. If anybody is fired, it will be his own fault.”
“Of course it was nobody’s fault but Scott’s that he got off the team?”
“Surely not. He’s a hot-headed fellow, and he needs to be kept in his place. He’s had his own way all his life, and he’s spoiled. He insulted me, the coach of the team, on the field, and I should have demanded an apology if he had remained on the eleven. He made it plain that it would be impossible for him and me to pull together on the same team, and I’m sure we shall get along just as well without him.”
There was a quick step outside the door, and Don Scott himself came into the room. The lowering expression on his dark face told that he had overheard Renwood’s words, and his flashing eyes indicated that again he was aroused. Fixing his eyes on Dolph, he walked straight up to the table on which the city lad was seated.
“You are right, Renwood,” he said, in a voice that quivered from the tensity of his feelings, “you and I could never pull together on the same team. That is settled at last for all time, and I now give notice that I will withdraw from both the eleven and this club. Just as long as you are a member of either I shall stay out.”
Don Scott had come there to say something entirely different, but again that day his passions were aroused, as he had overheard Dolph’s final speech.
“I presume you are at liberty to withdraw if you like,” said Renwood.