He was too good a judge of character to imagine that a mere quarter of an hour’s talk, no matter how emphatic it was, could be the means of changing utterly the methods and point of view of a fellow like Tempest. He felt sure that the captain of the varsity would do his best to follow the advice which had been given him, but whether he would succeed was quite another matter. He had less anxiety in regard to Kenny. He felt that the quarter back was sincere in his desire to have peace and harmony in the team, and after their talk last night he was sure that the hot-tempered, good-hearted chap would even put up with a little of Tempest’s nagging without breaking out again. But, strangely enough, the practice had barely begun, before he found prevailing a condition which was quite the opposite from what he had confidently supposed would be the case. Almost at once he perceived that Tempest had a firm grip on himself and was doing his best to preserve harmony, whereas Kenny acted as if he had a chip on his shoulder which he was almost anxious for the captain to knock off. He was as nearly sullen as such a naturally good-tempered fellow could be, taking his part in the game in a perfunctory manner without his usual snap and vim; and, instead of going ahead on his own hook with the various plays which had to be practiced, he was constantly pausing and asking Tempest’s advice in a pointed, sarcastic manner which would have driven anybody wild. Naturally the latter got hot under the collar. Here he was straining every effort to keep the peace, and Kenny, instead of meeting him halfway, was doing his best to aggravate him and provoke a verbal battle. The result was that, before an hour had passed, the two were at daggers’ points, and a feeling of unrest and uneasiness had come over the whole team, which seriously interfered with its efficiency, and prevented it from doing anything like the good work it should have done. Merriwell was puzzled as well as decidedly angry. What in the world possessed Kenny? What had come over him since their talk of the previous evening, when the quarter back had shown such a very evident and sincere desire to see things go well, and, more than that, had promised that he would do his best to that end. Instead of keeping his word, he had gone to quite the opposite extreme and was very evidently bent on rousing Tempest to a fury. Merriwell could not understand it, and he was so angry with the little quarter back that it would have given him the greatest pleasure to take the sulky fellow by the shoulders and shake him, as one would a spoiled child.