Again Hal started to speak and again Joe interrupted. “Oh, piffle, Maynard! A fellow’s innocent until he’s proved guilty. Anyway, I guess the—the circumstantial evidence is all you need.”
“All right, have it your way, Kenton. You know where the evidence points. I’m sorry to have—I’m sorry it happened. Good night.”
“I’m sorry, too,” answered Joe soberly. “Good night, Maynard.”
The door closed behind the proctor and Joe snapped off the light. After a long moment of silence: “What did you do that for?” demanded Hal, truculently.
“Well, he was sure it was one of us. If I don’t play Saturday it won’t much matter. If you don’t, it’ll matter a lot. You’re the only one of us who can hit Cross, and unless some one hits him we’re going to get licked. Besides, I didn’t lie to him.”
When Joe had struggled into his pajamas and crawled into bed Hal spoke again. “Mighty decent of you,” he said. “Don’t know that I’d have done it for you.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to. I didn’t do it for you, so that needn’t worry you. I did it for the team; or the school; or maybe just because I want to see Munson beaten.”
“Oh,” replied Hal in relieved tones. “That’s different!” A minute later he added: “Sorry you’re in a mess, though.”
“That doesn’t matter. G’night!”