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.