CHAPTER XIV
REBELLION
"You can put your request in writing, Brown; but, honestly, I don't think it will do a bit of good."
Sam Randall, president of the athletic association and member of the Rambler Club, seated at his desk in a room which adjoined the gymnasium, gazed squarely into his visitor's face.
It was late on the same afternoon, for Brown had determined to force the issue at once.
Within the last year Sam Randall had grown to be quite a young man in appearance. All the lines about his clean-cut face tending to firmness had become accentuated, and he had a quiet, decisive manner which even had its effect on the imperturbable Brown.
"I'm to understand, then, that my challenge has been thrown down flat?"
Sam Randall toyed with a paper-weight on his desk.
"No, I can't say that, Brown. I'm only one of the officers of the association. The others must speak for themselves."
"But you, as president, ought to have a great deal of influence," suggested "Crackers," slowly pacing the floor. "I tell you plainly, the fellows are getting worked up; they won't stand for any dictatorial methods. Aren't you going to use your influence to prevent the explosion that one more defeat would certainly bring? It might blow nearly every member of the organization out of his job."