“The deuce he does!” retorted Kenny. “He’s done nothing but hammer and pound at me since he came back on the field. You might think I didn’t have any sense at all. It’s nag, nag, nag the whole time. ‘Do this, do that,’ without giving a fellow a chance to do it himself. What am I quarter for, I’d like to know, if I can’t use a little judgment? I’ve played football as long as he has, and been on the varsity longer, yet he treats me like a perfect kid. I tell you, Dick, I won’t stand for it any longer. I—don’t care if I am—out of the game—Saturday.” Despite his accents of bravado, Kenny’s voice faltered a little at the end. Merriwell leaned forward earnestly. “Jack, you don’t mean that,” he exclaimed; “you can’t mean it!” The quarter back nodded emphatically. “Yes, I do,” he said. But there was almost a sob in his voice. Angry and excited as he had been up to this point, leaving the team seemed the only natural thing to do. Merriwell’s face grew very serious. “You can’t realize what you’re saying, Jack,” he said, in a low, clear voice. “You can’t possibly be in earnest when you talk about leaving the team four days before the great game of the season. Surely you know, old fellow, that such a step would give Harvard the victory as certain as fate. We haven’t any one who could possibly take your place and run things the way you do. Gillis hasn’t got the head. That isn’t soft soap; it’s the truth.” Kenny’s slim fingers were busy tracing intricate patterns on the upholstered arm of the chair. His eyes were averted. “Gillis could do what I’ve been doing for the past two weeks,” he muttered, in a low tone. “Any dub could do that. Tempest don’t want a fellow to think for himself.” “Did you ever try and put yourself in Don Tempest’s place, Jack?” Dick asked swiftly. “Did you ever try and figure out what sort of a man he was—what kind of a mind he has, I mean?” The quarter back shot a swift glance at Merriwell’s face and then dropped his eyes. “He’s got a cursed domineering mind, I know that much,” he growled. “That’s the way it might appear sometimes,” Dick returned; “but you haven’t got deep enough. He’s a fellow with splendid executive ability, with a wonderfully far-seeing mind and immense talent for the strategy of football. Surely you’ll admit that.” “He has doped out some pretty good stunts,” Kenny acknowledged grudgingly. “Of course he has. He’s amazingly clever at that. And it’s about those very stunts that he makes his great mistake. His mind is so wrapped up in the results he wants to get that he doesn’t care how he gets them. Moreover, he’s intolerant of advice——” “And mighty quick about giving it to others,” flashed Kenny viciously. Dick repressed a quick smile. The quarter back’s manner was so like that of a peevish child that he could not help being amused. But the feeling was only momentary. The situation was far too serious for trifling. “I know that,” he returned quickly, “and that’s what I told him this afternoon.”