"Be patient, my young friend in the checkered cap," went on Brown. "Mr. Steele, the school couldn't stand by and see a grand chance for getting a ball field and stand slip away."
"And it doesn't propose to!" cried Owen Lawrence.
"We have a proposition—a fair proposition: play us a series of games, and let whichever club wins represent the school. This is no time for stubbornness. Personal ambition has no place at such an important epoch in the history of the Kingswood High."
As the leader of the "outlaws" paused a lively rattle of tongues began. Excited students cheered, or voiced their protests until the room echoed with a noisy din.
"Don't do it, Steele; don't do it!" cried one.
"The whole bunch ought to be thrown out of the school!" shouted a second.
"You're away off. Brown's the best friend the Kingswood High ever had!" exclaimed another, hotly.
"Crackers" looked at the excited groups about him with as much unconcern as though reciting in the class room.
"Order—order!" yelled Lawrence. "What do you say, Steele?"
The coach was visibly annoyed—even angry. He shot a swift, questioning glance at Bob Somers, then turned to face Dan Brown.