"Benny Wilkins. Had the thing copied word for word in his note-book. May be a joke, you say? No; nothing of the sort! It's an actual fact. Gee! Maybe I don't feel mad enough to punch 'Crackers' Brown!"
Bob Somers' face remained unruffled.
"I don't think we want to indulge in any real warfare, Tom," he sent through the transmitter. "'Crackers' plan may fizzle out. Besides, I think we can count upon having the majority of the fellows on our side."
"But Benny Wilkins says a whole lot are beginning to waver. He thinks there'll be a sizzling hot time before many weeks. Aleck Parks and Owen Lawrence are buttonholing every fellow in sight, telling 'em how the grounds'll be lost unless Bob listens to reason."
"What does 'Crackers' want us to do?"
"Put Roycroft, Lawrence and a few others on the team, and discharge Charlie Blake, Alf Boggs, and—and"—the tone of Tom's voice seemed hot enough to scorch the wire—"myself. Honest fact, Bob—I don't know whether I can keep from punching him or not. What are you going to do about it?"
"No Central American disturbance at the Kingswood High," said Bob, dryly. "What am I going to do? Get right back up-stairs and finish my work."
"But we can't let a thing like this go on. Show the first sign of weakening, Bob, and the wavering'll become a stampede most as bad as any of the cattle rushes on the plains."
"We don't propose to show any signs of weakening. It's up to the coach to do what he thinks best. I'll stick by what he says."
"Oh, I can see you're taking it pretty cool, Bob. But I was never hotter in my life. Aleck Parks had the nerve to call me 'Vanitas' to-day. Wonder where he got that from? I'm ready to put up the stiffest kind of fight for the club."