For a few moments the boys looked at one another in silence, their faces expressive of dismay. To a fellow, they understood what it meant, and presently some of them glanced toward Ben Stone. He likewise knew, and, rising, he stepped forward to meet the captain of the eleven.

“Eliot,” he said in a low tone, “I think I’d better get out. I’m making a lot of trouble.”

Before them all Roger placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Stone,” he retorted, “the trouble is not of your making. I invited you to come out for practice, and I hope you won’t go back on me now.”

As long as he put it that way, it was impossible for Ben to quit.

Minus Hayden, the boys repaired to the field. They lacked their usual exuberance, however, and Ben detected some of them speaking together in low tones. In spite of everything, he felt that he was an intruder, and his self-consciousness made him particularly awkward and slow about the work he was given to perform. He fumbled punts, he fell on the ball in wretched form, and there seemed to be leaden weights in his shoes. Occasionally he detected some of the boys watching him in anything but a manner of approval.

Finally Eliot made up the team, filling Hayden’s place in the backfield with a substitute and placing Stone at left guard.

“You’re good and solid,” smiled Roger, “and when you wake up you ought to strengthen this wing of the line. Remember to start low and quick at the signal.”

But although the signals, which were very simple, had been fully explained to Ben, he could not grasp them quickly, and he was more or less confused when the time came to act. Roger, however, seemed to consider this very natural, and laughed at him in a good humored way.

“You’ll get onto it all right in time,” declared the captain. “Perhaps this code of signals won’t be used at all after we get our coach. I’m just trying the fellows out to get them used to the formations.”

“My deduction is—” began Piper; but no one listened to him.

Practice over, Ben returned to the gymnasium to change his clothes, feeling far from pleased with himself. His discomfiture was increased when he heard Berlin Barker telling some of the boys that he considered it a great misfortune that Hayden should become huffed and leave the team.

“I don’t know how we’re going to get along without him in the backfield,” said Barker. “He’s fast, and he knows the game right down to the ground. His place can’t be filled.”

“Oh, he’ll get over it,” prophesied Cooper cheerfully. “He will come round in a day or two.”

“You don’t know him,” returned Berlin. “He’ll never change his mind.”

Ben sat alone in his room, thinking it all over. He felt that Barker was right in believing that as long as he remained on the team Bern Hayden would not return to it. That Hayden was a good player and a valuable man he had no doubt. What did it matter whether he himself played football or not? True, he would have enjoyed doing so, but, to a certain extent, he had triumphed over the fellow who had tried to drive him out of school, and might it not be best if that satisfied him? Discord on the team was a serious misfortune, and only for Eliot’s persistence he would have taken himself away already.

“Roger is a fine fellow,” he whispered. “He’s a friend worth having. Still, in order to show his friendliness toward me, he should not produce disruption on the eleven. For the good of the school I must withdraw.”

He went out for a walk in the open air. Passing the post office, he saw in the light which shone from the open door Berlin Barker and Bernard Hayden talking together.

“Barker stands by Hayden,” he muttered, “and I suppose there are others.”

He did not sleep well that night; he was disturbed by dreams, in which he lived over again that desperate struggle with his malignant enemy—the struggle that had brought upon him the great trouble of his life.

Saturday morning Ben sought Roger Eliot at the latter’s home and was given a hearty welcome. Roger invited him in, but the visitor preferred not to enter, and they went into the garage, where Urian Eliot kept his big touring car.

“She’s a beaut, Ben,” said Roger, admiring the polished, glittering automobile; “but father is queer and won’t let me drive it. He had to discharge our chauffeur; the man drank. It’s a shame for the car to be hung up just now, with the roads in elegant condition. I can drive a car as well as any one, but I have to consider my father’s whims. If we get hold of another chauffeur before the season is over, I’ll take you out for a ride that you’ll enjoy.”

Ben flushed; there was no halfway business about Roger, who had taken his stand and was ready to let every one know that he regarded Stone as a worthy friend. Ben had never set foot in an automobile, and the promise of a ride in Mr. Eliot’s fine car gave him a thrill.

“Thank you,” he said; “I know I shall enjoy it.”

He found it difficult to introduce the topic which had led him there, but presently he succeeded, and Roger listened calmly to his argument.

“Stone,” said the captain of the eleven, “you’re not looking at this matter from the proper angle. I’ve told Hayden what I think of a fellow who would allow personal prejudice to lead him into deserting his team. Hayden wants to be captain next year, and he will be if he stands by the team. Otherwise, some one else will be elected. He’ll think this over when he cools down, and I prophesy that he will come back. It would be a mistake for you to quit now, for it would weaken my authority. Why, Hayden would be the man who was running the team, not I. I want you out for practice this afternoon. By Monday, perhaps, Bern will come to his senses.”

Roger was indeed a grim and determined fellow, and Ben was finally compelled to yield to his judgment.

That afternoon, however, Barker, as well as Hayden, failed to come out for practice. This made it necessary to use two substitute half-backs, in neither of whom the boys had any confidence whatever. On the whole the practice was of the most unsatisfactory sort, and, if possible, Stone appeared at greater disadvantage than ever, something caused almost wholly by his knowledge that he was a “bone of contention” and his firm belief that the majority of the boys were greatly displeased by the trouble he had caused.

On his way home he was in a downcast mood when Spotty Davis overtook him. Spotty had suddenly betrayed an unwelcome inclination to extreme friendliness.

“Oh, cheer up,” he said. “You ain’t to blame. Of course Hayden’s pretty sore, but Roger is bound to have his way, and he won’t give in to anybody.”

“That’s it,” said Ben; “I feel like an intruder. I feel that I’m doing positive harm to the team. Why didn’t Barker come out?”

“Oh, he’s one of Bern’s friends, and I guess he’s going to stand by him. It will be pretty hard luck to lose ’em both. I dunno how Roger’s ever going to fill their places.”

“I’m breaking up the team,” muttered Ben. “I’d like to play football, but——”

“Most of the fellers don’t seem to think you’d ever be much of a player,” grinned Spotty frankly. “Now if we was going to lose Bern and you could fill his place, it would be different. Anyhow, mebbe Hayden and Barker will come back when the coach gets here. Roger says he’s going to wire for him to-night. He’s got enough money pledged.”

“It will give me no more pleasure than it will Hayden to play on the same team,” declared Ben; “but I’d be willing to do anything for the good of the school. That’s why I thought I hadn’t better play. I’m not anxious to make trouble.”

“Bern says you’ve always been a trouble maker. Oh, he’s got it in for you, all right. But you’ve won a lap on him, the best he can do. It’s bitter medicine for him to swaller. He tried to down you, and he’d done it, all right, if you hadn’t put yourself on top by defending Amy Eliot. That was lucky for you. Urian Eliot has got about as much pull as anybody ’round these parts. You just better let things simmer along, and they’ll come out all right.”

Nevertheless, Spotty’s words added to Stone’s disquietude of mind, for he also believed that the loss of Hayden from the team—to say nothing of Barker—could not be compensated for.

Sunday passed quietly. Not having a suit of clothes to satisfy him, Ben did not attend church. He spent much of the day with Jimmy, and was invited to supper by Mrs. Jones, who had heard all about his bravery and persisted in talking of it. Mamie, however, snubbed him mercilessly.

When Roger appeared at school on Monday morning he informed the boys that he had heard from Winton, who would arrive early enough in the afternoon to begin the work of coaching that day. He even took particular pains to tell Hayden.

“I’m not at all interested in your team, Eliot,” said Bern repellently.

“My team,” cried Roger—“mine? Why, you ought to be as much interested in it as I am. I took you for a fellow who would be loyal and——”

Hayden cut him short. “I don’t want to hear any more of that talk from you. You’ll find me loyal enough to the team when you do what I ask of you. If you don’t do it, I doubt if you’ll have any team in another week.”

That night in addition to Hayden and Barker there were two other deserters, Rollins and Sage. Eliot was compelled to explain the situation to the coach. Winton listened and asked a few questions. In the end he advised Roger to drop Ben Stone.