ing's been
slovenly, careless, and generally mean. You've soldiered half the time.
And I think we can get along without you for the rest of the season."

Mills, his blue eyes sparkling, turned away, and Stowell and White, who
for a minute past had been striving to check Cowan's utterances, now
managed to drag him away.

"Shut up!" whispered White hoarsely. "Don't be a fool! Come out of
here!" And they hauled him outside, where, on the porch, he gave vent
anew to his wrath until they left him finally in disgust.

He slouched in to see Paul after dinner that evening, much to Neil's
impatience, and taking up a commanding position on a corner of the
study-table, recited his tale of injustice with great eloquence. Paul,
who had spent the afternoon with other unfortunates on the benches, was
full of sympathy.

"It's a dirty shame, Tom," he said. "And I'm glad you waded into Mills
the way you did. It was fine!"

"Little white-haired snake!" exclaimed Cowan. "Drops me from training
just because I make a fumble! Why, you've fumbled, Paul, and so's
Fletcher here; lots of times. But he doesn't lay _you_ off! Oh, dear,
no; you're swells whose names will look well in the line-up for the
Robinson game! But here I've played on the team for two years, and now
off I go just because I dropped a ball. It's rank injustice!

"I suppose he thinks I've got to play football here. If he does he's
away off, that's all. I could have gone to Robinson this fall and had
everything I wanted. They guaranteed me a position at guard or tackle,
and I wouldn't have needed to bother with studies as I do here, either."
The last remark called a smile to Neil's face, and Cowan unfortunately
glanced his way and saw it.

"I dare say if I was willing to toady to Mills and Devoe, and tell
everybody they're the finest football leaders that ever came down the
pike, it would be different," he sneered angrily. "Maybe then Mills
would give me private instruction in goal-kicking and let me black his
boots for him."

Neil closed his book and leaned back in his chair, a little disk of red
in each cheek.

"Now, look here, Tom Cowan, let's have this out," he said quietly.
"You're hitting at me, of course--"

"Oh, keep out, chum," protested Paul. "Cowan hasn't mentioned you once."

"He doesn't need to," answered Neil. "I understand without it. But let
me tell you, Cowan, that I do not toady to either Mills or Devoe. I do
treat them, however, as I would any one