A dozen of the fellows crowded about, consternation written in their faces.
Prescott was known not to be fit to play. Only the day before Dr. Bentley had refused to pass him for the game. Hence Drayne, even if a trifle out of condition, was still the best available man for left end.
"Quit your fooling, Drayne!" cried two or three at once.
"Quit your talking," retorted Drayne, kicking off his other field shoe. "I've done all my talking."
Truth to tell, Drayne still intended to play, but he wanted to
teach these fellows a lesson. He intended to make them beg, from
Wadleigh down, before he would go on to the finish of his togging.
Drayne knew when he had the advantage of them.
"Don't be a fool, Drayne," broke in Hudson hotly.
"Or a traitor to your school," added another.
"Be a man!"
In Drayne's present frame of mind all these appeals served to fan his inward fury.
"Shut up, all of you!" he snapped. "I've listened to all the roasting I intend to stand. I'm out of the game!"