"There's plenty of chance yet," went on Dick. "We are to have another practice game this week, and there may be a turn about in some players."
"I have a large sized gold framed picture of 'em naming me," exclaimed Porter with sarcasm. "But I take back what I said about your money getting you on. It did seem so, at first."
"Perhaps naturally," agreed Dick. "But your apology is accepted," and he held out his hand. "I hope we can be friends," he concluded.
"I guess so," mumbled Porter, with rather a shamed air.
"I presume Mr. Weston seconds what his friend says," spoke Paul significantly.
"Oh, yes," and it was with rather an obvious effort that the crony made reply. "Come on, Porter, or the best billiard tables will all be occupied."
"Well, I'm glad that's over," remarked Dick to Paul, as they turned away. "I was afraid this would crop up, and it's just as well to settle it. I only hope it does settle it, and that no other fellows will think as Porter and Weston did."
"Oh, some of them are bound to think it anyhow," said Paul easily. "Don't mind it, for it will wear away sooner or later. I'm afraid, though, that the team will be known as yours."
"I don't want that, Paul."
"Can't be helped, old man. After all it's a high honor. I wish I could afford a football team, and a steam yacht."