“Why don’t you explain?” asked Phil.
“I can’t.”
“You mean there’s nothing to explain?” queried Tom.
“You can put it that way, if you like. I wish you fellows would let me alone.”
“That’s all right, Sid,” went on Tom, “but when we count on you to play on the team—and when we need you—to go back on us this way—it’s not——”
“Oh, let me alone; will you?” burst out the unfortunate one. “Haven’t I got troubles enough? You know it hurts me, as much as it does you, not to play. Don’t I want to see Randall win?”
“Doesn’t look much like it,” mumbled Phil.
“Say, look here,” exploded Sid, “if you fellows don’t want me here any longer, just say so, and I’ll get out.” He sprang to his feet, and faced his chums, a look on his face they had never seen there before. It brought to them a realization of what it all meant, though they could not understand it.
“Oh, hang it all, we’re getting too serious!” declared Tom. “Of course, we want you to stay here—we wouldn’t know what to do if you left us. Only it’s tough on the team.”