“Well, then, I suppose I’d better,” he said. “I’d a lot rather you still had the job, though, Stuart, and I’d hate mightily to take it if—if you didn’t like it. You know that, eh?”
“Sure!” Stuart did know it, and appreciation of Jack’s loyalty made the word sound genuine. “Some one’s got to be captain of the team, Jack, and it might as well be you. In fact, you deserve it, old man, and I’m glad you’ve got it!”
And he really thought he was glad, but after Jack had gone off, relieved and quite cheerful, he found himself wondering how much of his friend’s reluctance had been real and how much feigned. Certainly he couldn’t blame Jack for wanting the captaincy. Any fellow would be glad of the honor. Of course some chaps might have refused under the circumstances, but perhaps not many. Friendship didn’t mean an awful lot, after all, to the average fellow, and possibly he ought to give credit to Jack for asking him about it before deciding: if, that is, Jack hadn’t already made up his mind to accept the captaincy before coming to him! Stuart’s lip curled a little. He guessed Jack wouldn’t have let the chance get away from him whether he—Stuart—had liked it or lumped it!
CHAPTER IX
OUT OF A JOB
Stuart borrowed some clubs from Fred Locker and tried to interest himself in golf and, for several afternoons, with Neil swinging along beside him on his crutches, haunted the links. But impatience and ineptness soon proved too much for a lukewarm enthusiasm and that means of passing the time was discarded. Stuart relied on Neil almost pathetically that first week, and the latter good-naturedly put himself at the disposal of his chum and tried his best to be of service, neglecting his studies on many occasions and not infrequently getting pretty tired in accompanying the other over the roads or across fields. As nimble as he was, the crutches hurt cruelly after a while, and Stuart, trying, it seemed, to escape from the sounds of punted balls and the cries of the players on the gridiron, set a lively pace sometimes.
Stuart’s own studies suffered, too, and they could ill afford to since football duties had left him in none too good a standing. On Friday Mr. Moffit summoned him to his study in Holton and Stuart went over there dejectedly that evening after supper. However, the English instructor didn’t prove formidable. He managed to make the boy talk about the loss of the captaincy and, perhaps because he was tired of pretending, Stuart made a clean breast of the affair, from first to last, finding his audience sympathetic and obtaining much relief from the confession.
“Harven,” asked Mr. Moffit when Stuart had ended, “do you recall a conversation we had here one afternoon before school started?” Mr. Moffit’s eyes twinkled. “We discussed, among other things amenability. I think some one had charged you with a lack of that quality, and we denied the aspersion with the contempt it deserved and substituted an over supply of self-dependence.”
Stuart nodded gloomily.