"And, hang it all, man, look intelligent, as though you liked the game!" Neil strove to look intelligent by banishing the expression of bewilderment from his face, and stood patiently by until the last coach had hurled the last bolt at his defenseless head--defenseless, that is, save for the head harness that was dripping rain-drops down his neck.
Then he trotted off to the line-up with a queer, half-painful grin on his face.
"I guess it's settled for me," he said to, himself, as he rubbed his cold, wet hands together.

"Evidently I sha'n't have to play off to give Paul his place; I've done it already.

I suppose I've been bothering my head about it until I've forgotten what I've been doing.

I wish though--" he sighed--"I wish it hadn't been necessary to disgust Mills and Bob Devoe and all the others who have been so decent and have hoped so much of me.

But it's settled now.