“You’re always thinking something that isn’t so,” grumbled Hal. “I’ll bet you’re doing it right now, too!”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re thinking that I—that I let you take the blame for last night because I want to play to-morrow,” flared Hall. “I do, but, if that was all I wouldn’t have let you. I’m standing for it because I know plaguey well that if I don’t play we’ll get beaten. Oh, I dare say that sounds cocky, but it’s so. I can hit Cross’s curves and not another one of you fellows can come anywhere near ’em.”
“I know, and I’m not kicking, am I? I said it was me because I knew we’d get ‘Finis’ written all over us if you were out of the game. So what’s the use of chewing the rag about it now?”
“Because I won’t have you think I’m a—a sneak and a coward! And you do think so—inside.”
“I don’t!”
Hal had come close and now he stood staring down at Joe menacingly. “You don’t?” he demanded suspiciously.
“No, I don’t.”
“All right. See that you don’t. If I thought you were lying I’d—I’d knock your head off! Mind you, I appreciate what you’ve done for me—”
“You!” shouted Joe, jumping up. “For you? Don’t you dare say I did it for you! I did it because I wanted to.” He waved a finger under the other’s nose. “Just one more crack like that and I’ll punch your ugly face in!”