"Oh, come, that's mean. What! Aeroplane up those steps to have an interview with a big yellow dog at the top? Well, I should rather say nix! Go on—tell me about it."
"Nothing doing," said Bob.
"Not a word for the note-book," chuckled Steele.
"Well, I'll make an entry, just the same," snapped Benny, highly aggrieved. "It'll read like this: 'Mysterious visit of Coach Steele and Bob Somers to Mr. Rupert Barry's. Principals refuse to be interviewed. Were they called down for the punk showing of the team?'"
With a loud, "Good-night!" the tone of which indicated a decidedly ruffled state of feeling, Benny was off.
"A sarcastic little chap," declared Roger Steele. "I'm rather sorry this happened. He's a regular chatterbox, you know."
"Benny is good hearted enough, but thoughtless," mused Bob. "If the fellows hear about our calling upon Mr. Barry they may put too serious a construction on it."
"And 'Crackers' Brown and his crowd haven't been silenced by any means."
"They can't knock my confidence in the team. What kind of stuff would a captain be made of to become discouraged at the very outset?"
"That's the talk," said Steele, approvingly. "Let the croakers croak. Perhaps we know our own business best."