“What! Why, Buck, you wouldn’t think that of me, would you?” exclaimed Thatcher, a look of pained surprise on his face.
“Well—ah—it looked sort of rough to me. I saw him go down and he was right in front of you. Looked bad to me and I was surprised to think you of any of us should foul so deliberately.”
“But, hang it, Buck, I didn’t. Oh, please believe me, I had nothing to do with it. I never have played dirty in my life and believe me I’m not beginning now. It was he who played dirty. It was a rotten trick. When he saw he couldn’t stop the shot he threw himself down on the floor—fell purposely and then howled that I had tripped him. It was quick thinking on his part all right, but dirty work. He saw that if he could get away with it he would spoil my basket and give his side a chance for a free shot to win the game. And, thanks to his cleverness, it worked out just the way he doped it.”
“Gee whizz, the dirty skate,” exclaimed Cas Gorham, a sub, who had gathered around Jeff, with the rest of the members of the team.
“Gould is a hard loser, I’ve found out. They tell me last year in baseball he pulled some shady trick and—say—gee whizz—I forgot—this isn’t the last you’ll have to do with Gould. He played third base on the scrub team last year and he’s got it doped out that he is naturally going to inherit that position on the big team this year since Squires graduated. And, by jingoes, that’s the job you are going to try for.” It was Brownie Davis who was speaking, one of the fellows who had been instrumental in getting Thatcher to come to Pennington.
“That’s my regular job. The position I played best on the Y. M. C. A. team last year, you know,” said Thatcher with a smile.
“Sure, we know. Don’t we all remember that was one of the best amateur teams in the state?” said Rabbit Warren, slapping Thatcher on the back.
“Well, that will be your chance to square accounts with him if you don’t get a chance before that,” said Buck Hart. Then he added, “But look out for him, Jeff. If he pulls that sort of stuff he’s as crooked as a cruller. Keep your eye on him. Coach Rice told me to-day he was going to post notices for baseball candidates to report in the gym. for cage practice in two or three weeks. We’ll be rooting for you, Jeff.”
“Well, maybe I can keep him on the bench or on the scrub team this year. I’ll try mighty hard you bet. But even if I do win the job away from him that won’t take the sting out of this defeat. Honestly, fellows, I’m as sorry as the dickens that I should be the cause of losing the game and the school championship, even though I didn’t play dirty myself.”
“Tut-tut, little one, don’t take it so hard,” said Buck Hart sliding into his trousers. But it was evident to Jeff that he was not the only one of the team who took the defeat bitterly. All of the fellows had played hard and clean to win and for Thatcher to know that he had had the foul called on him, even though it was not his fault, made him feel deeply chagrined. Indeed, it made him bitter toward Gould, who had played so unsportsmanlike, and it made him so disconsolate and discouraged that he had very little more to say in the locker room, hurrying through the ceremony of a cold shower, and dressing as swiftly as he could and seeking his own room in Carter Hall, where he flung himself into a chair and gave over to bitter reflection.