“You don’t agree with me?” he questioned shortly. “Where are you going to get another quarter at this stage of the game?” growled Bill Fullerton, the head coach. “Why, Gillis, of the scrub,” Tempest answered. “He knows all the signals and has the plays down pat.” Almost in spite of himself, however, there was an undercurrent of doubt in his voice. “Punk along side of Kenny,” Fullerton said tersely. “But I can’t take that line of talk and do nothing,” protested Tempest. “In twenty-four hours there wouldn’t be any discipline left.” He glanced at Merriwell questioningly, expecting confirmation of his views, but Dick slowly shook his head. “It wouldn’t do, Don,” he said slowly. “At least, not at this late day. If we had a couple of weeks before the game, Gillis might be hammered into shape; but it would be suicidal to put him in Kenny’s place now.” He hesitated a moment and then went on quietly: “I hate butting in, old fellow, but once in a while a chap’s got to. You don’t mind if I speak rather freely, do you, Don?” Tempest shook his head, but it was plain from the expression on his face that advice was not especially palatable. “Spit it out, Dick,” he returned shortly. “It’s just this, Don,” Merriwell explained. “I think that, in a way, you’re a little to blame for Kenny’s flare-up. He’s been sore for quite some time. I’ve been watching him closely, and I rather expected the outbreak would come before this. The reason why it didn’t was because Jack was doing his best to keep his temper. I think he realized, as well as you or I could, the folly, even danger, of a split in the team at this juncture; and I honestly believe that he kept a grip on himself until he simply couldn’t hold in any longer.” Tempest’s face darkened. “That’s a pretty hard one on me, Merriwell,” he said quickly. “You imply that I practically drove him to the wall.” “In a way, yes,” Dick answered. “Of course it wasn’t intentional on your part. I don’t mean that, at all. I don’t suppose you’ve realized it, old man, but you have been putting in your oar lately a little bit more than is wise. No doubt you’ve seen the value of certain plays, which, perhaps, haven’t appealed to Kenny, and have consequently harped on them more than you have any idea of. You’ve lost track of the fact that Jack is one of the ablest, most brainy quarters we’ve ever had, and that he should be entitled to do a little thinking on his own hook. Besides, no fellow, no matter how much of a dub he may be, likes to be constantly pounded and hammered at before the whole team. Most men have to be handled with a little diplomacy and tact—taken aside, you know, and perhaps asked their advice as to the value of a certain play or formation, instead of being ordered to do thus and so without having any reason given them. Perhaps that method doesn’t appeal to you, but I have found it much the simplest and effective way of getting results.