And don't you two talk back, either," warned Wadleigh sternly.
"Oh, acknowledge the corn, Drayne," broke in Hudson, with what he meant for good humor.

"Just say you're no good and let it go at that." There was a dead silence, for an instant, broken by one unidentified fellow, muttering in a voice that sounded like a roar in the silence: "Drayne?
Humph!" "There you go! That's what all of you are saying to yourselves!" cried Drayne angrily.

"For some reason you idiots seem to think I'm in no shape today.

Hang it, I'm sorry I agreed to play.
For two cents I wouldn't play." "Drayne can be bought off cheaply, can't he ?" remarked one of the fellows.
The last speaker did not intend that his voice should reach Drayne, but it did.
"Say, you fellows all have a grouch on, just because I'm playing today!" quivered the victim of the remarks.

"Oh, well, never mind I'll cure your grouch, then!" Seating himself on a locker box, Drayne began to unfasten the lacings of his shoes.
"Here, man! What are you doing ?" demanded Captain Wadleigh, bounding forward angrily.
"Curing the grouch of this bunch," retorted Drayne sulkily.
"Man alive, there's no time to fool with your shoes now!" warned the team captain.
"I'm not going to need this pair," Drayne rejoined.