“Don’t deny it,” was the retort of the coach. “I know the smell of cigarettes too well. You may go to the side lines. Shipman, you come in at quarter,” and he motioned to another player.
“Mr. Lighton,” began Gerhart, “I promise——”
“It’s too late to promise now,” was the answer the coach made. “At the beginning of practice I warned you all that if you broke training rules you couldn’t play. If you do it now, what will you do later on?”
“I assure you, I—er—I only took a few——”
“Shipman,” was all Mr. Lighton said, and then he spoke to the center.
Gerhart withdrew from the practice, and walked slowly from the gridiron. As he left the field he cast a black look at Phil, who, all unconscious of it, was waiting for the play to be resumed. But Tom saw it.
Fifteen minutes more marked the close of work for the day. As Tom and Phil were hurrying to the dressing-rooms, they were met by Langridge and Gerhart. The latter still had his football togs on.
“Clinton, why did you tell Lighton I had been smoking?” asked Gerhart in sharp tones.
“Tell him you had been smoking? Why, I didn’t know you had been.”