“I can just see Sherman Ward’s expression if I did!” he thought bitterly. “He’s the niftiest one of the lot, with his father owning the iron works and about half the town besides. He wouldn’t waste much time on me, I guess!”
Taken all in all, Dale failed to pass either a pleasant or a profitable morning. He tried to keep his mind on the lessons, but that wasn’t easy. He had not yet decided whether or not to remain in the troop, and this question seemed so much more vital and important than arithmetic problems or dates in ancient history that his thoughts returned to it again and again. He hated the idea of staying where he wasn’t wanted, and yet to leave now would look as if he were a coward, afraid to face the jibes and sarcasms of the fellows who didn’t like him.
The end of the morning session found the problem still unsolved. Dale was a little slow putting his books away, and when he came to look for Parker, who usually walked home with him, Court was nowhere to be seen. As he left the building he noticed a bunch of high-school boys from upstairs laughing and fooling on the corner. Ranny Phelps was among them, and several other members of Troop Five, and unconsciously the tenderfoot paused for an instant and half turned as if to seek the other exit. A second later his lips tightened and a dull flush came into his cheeks. He never went home that way, why should he take it now? Swiftly he turned back, and with head high in a desperate effort to look unconscious, he started briskly down the walk. He was within a dozen feet of the jolly group when all at once there came a hail from behind.
“Hi, Dale!”
Astonished, he turned at the call to see Sherman Ward coming down the school steps. For a moment it seemed as if he must have been mistaken, but the older chap quickly settled that doubt.
“Wait a minute, kid,” he went on; “I want to talk to you.”
In an instant Dale’s interest in the throng at the corner vanished. Surprised, curious, a little on the defensive, he watched the approach of the senior patrol-leader.
“I forgot to speak to you last night about football,” Sherman began at once with brisk, casual friendliness. “You play, don’t you?”
“A–a little,” stammered Dale, dazed by the absence of what he had so fully expected in the other’s manner.
“What position?”