“Wait, Scott,” said the captain of the eleven, grimly. “When are you going to pay for that football and those suits?”
The lips of the doctor’s son curled with scorn.
“When?” he cried. “Never!”
“Oh, yes, you will,” said Dick, quietly.
“If I do, I hope I may drop dead the next instant!” panted Don.
“If you do not,” warned the handsome fellow who blocked his path, “your father will.”
“What do you mean? You——”
“If you refuse to pay, I shall go to your father, tell him the whole story and demand payment from him.”
Don caught his breath, and it seemed that he would assault the captain then and there; but Sterndale showed no wavering nor alarm, and the attack did not come.
“Go ahead!” grated the dark-eyed lad. “Go to my father, if you like! You can’t drive me that way to pay for damage I never did! I’ll die before I’ll pay one cent!”