way to take defeat."

"That's all right, Sir," said Dunn quickly, "but it's rather
embarrassing, though it's awfully decent of them."

The doctor's words suggested fresh thoughts to young Rob. "But it was
terrible; and you were just on the win, too, I know."

"I'm not so sure at all," said his brother.

"Oh, it is terrible," said Bob again.

"Tut, tut, lad! What's so terrible?" said his father. "One side has to
lose."

"Oh, it's not that," said Rob, his lip trembling. "I don't care a sniff
for the game."

"What, then?" said his big brother in a voice sharpened by his own
thoughts.

"Oh, Jack," said Rob, nervously wreathing his hands, "he--it looked as
if he--" the lad could not bring himself to say the awful word. Nor was
there need to ask who it was the boy had in mind.

"What do you mean, Rob?" the captain's voice was impatient, almost
angry.

Then Rob lost his control. "Oh, Jack, I can't help it; I saw it. Do
you think--did he really funk it?" His voice broke. He clutched his
brother's knee and stood with face white and quivering. He had given
utterance to the terrible suspicion that was torturing his heroic young
soul. Of his two household gods one was tottering on its pedestal. That
a football man should funk--the suspicion was too dreadful.

The captain glanced at his father's face. There was gloom there, too,
and the same terrible suspicion. "No, Sir," said Dunn, with impressive
deliberation, answering the look on his father's face, "Cameron is
no quitter. He didn't funk. I think," he continued, while Rob's
tear-stained face lifted eagerly, "I know he was out of condition; he
had let himself run down last week, since the last match, indeed, got
out of hand a bit, you know, and that last quarter--you know, Sir, that
last quarter was pretty stiff--his nerve gave just for a moment."

"Oh," said the doctor in a voice of relief, "that explains it. But," he
added quickly in a severe tone, "it was very reprehensible for a man on
the International to let himself get out of shape, very reprehensible
indeed. An International, mind you!"

"It was my fault, Sir, I'm afraid," said Dunn, regretfully. "I ought to
have--"

"Nonsense! A man must be responsible for himself. Control, to be of any
value, must be ultroneous, as our old professor used to say."

"That's true, Sir, but I had kept pretty close to him up to the last
week, you see, and--"

"Bad training, bad training. A trainer's business is to school