"Yes, you—jealous. You are not in the game, and——"
"I assure you that you are unjust to me, Doris!" he exclaimed. "I am not jealous of that fellow. I simply spoke the truth. He’s a much overrated chap. I am expecting that this game will show it, too. I am not the only one who thinks this, and——"
"I understand!" panted the girl, her cheeks flushed. "You can’t deceive me that way. But I believe he is all right. I’m sure he’s a perfect gentleman. He never talks about anybody, friend or foe, behind his back."
"I have said nothing here that I should fear to repeat to his face," asserted Hal, who also was very red in the face. "If you mean that I am not a gentleman, Doris——"
"Oh, stop talking that way and watch!" said Zona. "Viewland is going to do something! What are they going to try?"
So Hal and Doris became silent, though the hearts of both were hot within them.
Viewland had learned that Fardale’s center was strong, and so the attack was concentrated on the right wing of the home team. Warne was sent into Stanton, and he made three yards in a desperate charge. Then the ball went back to Young, who followed up Warne’s attack and secured full five yards.
The wind had been knocked out of Stanton, and out came the boy with the bucket and the sponge. A dash of water over Stanton’s face, some squeezed from the sponge into his mouth, and he revived, jumped up, and exclaimed:
The whistle gave Viewland privilege to continue its assaults.
Next time Warne was given the ball for a run round Fardale’s right end, and, with a goodly number of interferers to assist him, he cleared the end of the line at top speed, passing Nunn, who was blocked off, and seemed to have a good chance to make a run straight to the cadet’s goal.
The thirty Viewland rooters rose up and howled for joy. But down on Warne with terrible speed came a flying form. The runner tried to dodge, but Dick Merriwell shot through the air, got Warne by the leg, and stretched him on the turf.
Not more than ten yards had been made, when it seemed that the enemy was due for a touch-down.
"Of course, that was a case of bad playing!" cried Doris Templeton revengefully. "Don’t you think so, Hal?"
Darrell bit his lip, but he had the manhood to say: