"Not even Tom?" queried the captain of the "Hopes," with a faint smile.
"On reflection, I'm not so sure about that," grinned Bob.
"We're old friends, Somers; and I hope this"—Earl paused. A troubled look shone in his eyes—"this unfortunate muddle won't cause any trouble between us."
"It isn't going to."
"Well, it must go against the grain to see one of your old chums on the opposition line-up. Honestly, Somers, don't you think"—Earl hesitated again—"that you'd better—well—reconsider this matter? It's a fact, Somers: you're losing supporters every day. The thought of saying good-bye to that field has put such a scrapping spirit into the boys that they're ready to fight to a finish."
Bob reflected a moment before answering.
"Then you mean that we should yield to popular clamor?"
"No, that isn't it. I hope—I hope you won't be offended if I speak plainly." A smile from Bob encouraged the rival captain to continue. "You chaps have been traveling about so much you haven't had a chance to keep in the game like some of the others. I don't say you can't play good ball—mind. When your crowd was practicing, as candidates for the team, you looked good to all of us. But, somehow"—Earl became considerably embarrassed again; his eyes shifted from the frank gaze of his companion—"I suppose I'll have to finish it," he sighed—"you don't seem to be of a quite strong enough caliber to truly represent the school. Now, Bob, it's out; and I guess you feel mighty hot about it?"
"Not a bit, Earl. I admire your honesty and candor. I'll agree that things look rather discouraging. Still,"—the captain seemed to weigh his words—"don't you think your very contention that we've not had as much practice as the others is an argument in our favor?"
"How?"