Cameron lost the game, and I say he's a rank 'quitter,' as Martin would say." "Look here, Nesbitt," the captain's voice was quiet, but every man paused in his rubbing.

"I know how sore you are and I forgive you that; but I don't want to hear from you or from any man on the team that word again.

Cameron is no quitter; he made--he made an error,--he wasn't fit,--but I say to you Cameron is no quitter." While he was speaking the door opened and into the room came a player, tall, lanky, with a pale, gaunt face, plastered over the forehead with damp wisps of straight, black hair.

His deep-set, blue-grey eyes swept the room.
"Thanks, Dunn," he said hoarsely.

"Let them curse me! I deserve it all.
It's tough for them, but God knows I've got the worst of it.