There was nothing further that he could say. It dawned on him in that moment that his relationship to the coach of Pomeroy's eleven was apt to cause many actions of his to be misconstrued. He would have to be more careful. Coach Edward was even now regarding him suspiciously.
"I hope, Mack, that I can trust you," he was saying.
"You sure can," Grinnell's disgruntled substitute answered, inwardly resenting the suggestion that he might use such information as he had gleaned against his school.
"I am surprised," Coach Edward finished, "that you would have permitted yourself to examine anything on my desk."
"I'm sorry, sir," Mack apologized, realizing that the Coach had reason for complaining. "But I wouldn't think of passing anything on to anyone else."
"It wouldn't be exactly wise," said Coach Edward as the two stood face to face.
Mack, who had toiled so long in the hopes of becoming a varsity regular and whose disappointment had finally assumed proportions of a grudge against his Coach, now made one final appeal.
"Coach, everything I do seems to be wrong. I can't get over the feeling that you don't like me. I swear I didn't mean anything by looking at those plays ... but you've an idea that I did. As for my being on the team and not getting a real chance to play—there must be some reason ... some big reason, if it's not prejudice. Whatever that reason is—I want to know it."
"That's what you say," rejoined Coach Edward. "But you're the sort, Mack, who won't be told. You're proving that fact right now even though you claim you want to know what's wrong. I've done the best I could for you on what you've shown me... I'm not in the habit of arguing or discussing a player's merits or demerits with him off the field so I'll have to ask you to consider this interview at an end."
"Okay!" rasped Mack, his pride deeply wounded and his feelings running away with him. Turning on his heel, he strode to the door, but whirled impulsively to throw back an angry taunt: "And here's hoping you get trimmed by Pomeroy!"