“I see. And I owe you an apology. I didn’t think you’d let me on, and I said so. I think it was a mighty plucky thing to do, mighty plucky, Syddington, and—and awfully decent. And now, look here. What I came here to say was just this.” He rose and took his cap from the table. “I can have the captaincy to-morrow, perhaps, but of course I’m not going to accept it.”
“Not going to—to——”
“Would you take it if you were in my place? If I had given you the chance to win the big game, knowing that if you did you’d get the captaincy; if you knew I’d set my heart on keeping it; if I’d slaved all fall to turn out the finest team Hillton’s had in years; if—if——”
“But that has nothing to do with it,” faltered the other.
“Yes, it has everything to do with it,” said Lane, earnestly. “It’s a matter of fair play—and no holding. If I took that captaincy after what you’ve done I’d detest myself.”
“But—but it doesn’t seem right.”
“It is, though. You’re a captain from head to heels, and I’m not. And—I guess that’s all.” He moved toward the door. Syddington followed with pale face.
“I—I don’t know how I can thank you, Lane, honestly! If you change your mind——”
“I sha’n’t. And as for thanks—I think we’re quits. Good night!”
“Good night!” replied Syddington. “I—” he faltered and the color flooded into his cheeks—“I—I want to shake hands with you, Lane.”