"That fellow Prescott has wonderful luck, or he'd have had his neck broken long ago, considering all the hard packs that he has bumped into in the games," growled the turnback disgustedly to himself.
In fact, Haynes was forced to do a large share of his talking with himself. He hadn't been "cut" by the other cadets, but he had succeeded in making himself generally unpopular through his too evident dislike of Prescott.
"Funny, but that's the man who wanted me to resign the class presidency so that he could run for it," laughed Dick to his chum.
Dick had told Greg of that laughable interview, but it had gone no further. Greg could be trusted not to talk too much.
"Going over to Philadelphia to see the Navy anchored to a zero score, Haynes?" asked Carter, of the second class.
"Yes; I reckon I'm going over," replied Haynes. "But I'm not so sure that we'll see the Navy sunk," replied the turnback.
"I know you don't care much for Prescott," smiled Carter. "Yet how can you be blind to the wonderful work that he and Holmes are doing? Is it because Prescott is playing the position for which you were cast?"
"No, it isn't," retorted Haynes, his face red with passion "If our team wants Prescott, let it have him. I don't care. But I've a notion Prescott won't be strutting about with such lordly airs——-"
"Prescotts? Lordly airs?" broke in Cadet Carter, grinning broadly. "Whew, but that would make a hit with the fellows! Why, Prescott is anything but a lordly chap. He's one of the most modest fellows in the corps. He had to be fairly dragged on to the eleven. He believed it would be better off without him."
"So it would, sure!" rasped the turnback.