Don't blame me, Drayne, and don't blame anyone else-----" "Captain Prescott!" sounded the low, but clean-cut, penetrating voice of Mr.Morton, submaster and football coach of the Gridley High School.
"Coming, sir!" answered Dick promptly.
Then he added, to Drayne: "Just blame your own conduct for the decision that was reached by coach and myself after listening to the instructions of the alumni Athletics Committee." Dick moved away at a loping run, for football practice was limited to an hour and a half in an afternoon, and he knew there was no time to be frittered.
"Oh, you sneak!" quivered Drayne, clenching his hands as he scowled at the back of the captain.

"It was you who brought up the old dispute.

It is you who are keeping me from any decent chance this last year of mine in the High School.

I won't stand it! I'll shake the dust from my feet on this crowd.

I won't remain in the squad, just for a possible chance to sub in some small game!" His face still hot with what he considered righteous indignation, Drayne felt better as soon as he had decided to shake the crowd.
In an instant, however, he changed his mind.