"I'm going back," announced Parks, firmly. "Roycroft and Lawrence are with Brown. Ha, ha! I think they'll protect us from violence." Captain Bunderley's arm, directed straight toward them, however, caused Benny Wilkins' motion of fifty feet to be immediately seconded. "Those were the chaps," the skipper said to the imperturbable Brown. "But, captain, the boys are all worked up over this affair; you can't expect 'em to act like a lot of little French dancing masters," protested Brown. "All nonsense! I say emphatically you're not giving the nine a fair show. I've noticed your carryings-on." "Sorry you feel that way, captain. We look upon things differently. When a set of fellows chosen to represent the school doesn't make good it's up to the boys to find another set who will." "And that's what we've done," put in Owen Lawrence. "I'm sorry all this has happened," put in Earl Roycroft. "No one wanted to see Bob Somers succeed more than I." A tremendous volley of cheering and the sight of boys waving their caps in the air put a stop to Captain Bunderley's reply. Looking over the scene, he saw hilarious groups racing down the grass-covered slopes and the field being invaded by a stream of humanity on its way to the break in the hills beyond. "Ah! The game must be ended," said Captain Bunderley. "I was so busy talking I forgot to look. What is the score, young fellow?" He addressed a boy just passing. "Five--two, favor Engleton." "That clinches our argument, Captain Bunderley!" exclaimed Brown. "Compare the showing the 'Hopes' made against Engleton with that of the Rambler Club's ball nine." He paused an instant then added significantly: "This is probably the last game they'll play as the recognized team of the Kingswood High." CHAPTER XVII BENNY WINS A NOTE-BOOK That night, Tom Clifton, a sadly-disturbed boy, paced the floor of his room. Mental pictures of the events of the afternoon constantly passed in a disordered array before his mind. He knew that he had made a wretchedly poor showing in the game. But whose fault was it? In a heated discussion with Roycroft he had attempted to place the blame where he felt that it belonged, only to become convinced that his efforts were wasted. The big fellow told him all he cared to know about the general sentiment that existed among the students. In the quiet of the room Tom Clifton attempted to study the situation from all sides. He owned to himself that he felt very unlike the boy who played in the opening game. But it was not until to-day that his confidence had received a blow in a vulnerable spot. What should he do? The thought of again facing the jeering, critical "fans" of the opposition and the sarcastic cries which were bound to come from Benny Wilkins and others on the smallest provocation made the hot blood mount to his face.