“I guess I’ll be going,” he said. “Hope you’ll be out soon. I’m going to make another try with Lighton, and see if he won’t let me play.”
“Um!” spoke Phil, as he turned over to doze.
Gerhart, with an ugly smile on his face, hurried to his room in the east dormitory. Langridge was waiting for him there.
“Well?” asked the former pitcher.
“It’s done!” exulted Gerhart, producing from beneath his coat a bottle that had contained liniment. “I threw the stuff out, and now I’ll get rid of the bottle. I guess Phil Clinton won’t play football any more this season!” He put the bottle far back on a closet shelf.
“Why don’t you throw that away?” asked Langridge.
“I may need it,” answered Gerhart. “I’ll save it for a while.”