The meeting was over. President John was jerking on his coat and savagely stamping his feet into his overshoes. Sumner and Talbot, having exchanged congratulatory grips, were pouring out fervent expressions of gratitude to their friends from Trowbridge, who had believed them honest men, not liars and cheats. At the moment of adjournment Thorne had taken his hat, and without a word to friend or foe, had slipped through the door. Newbold, following closely after, overtook him in the hall. “That’s right! Run away and hide yourself, you traitor!” shouted the captain, his voice trembling with rage. Thorne swung sharply round. “I’m not hiding from _you_, anyway,” he said coolly. “What have you got to say about it?” “I say you’re a disgrace to the school. First you threw us by letting on that that tackle signal was a new one, and then you voted against us, against your own school!” “I told the truth, and I voted for what I thought was right!” “What you thought was right!” sneered Newbold. “You voted that way just to get in with those Westcott fellows, that’s what you did it for. But you won’t succeed. No one respects a traitor, least of all those who use him!” This was a shot which wounded, not because it was true, but because it suggested a despicable motive for an act prompted solely by scruples of conscience. Thorne started as if pricked by a pin. “That’s a lie, Tom Newbold, and you know it!” he flung back hotly, advancing a step toward his assailant. “I’m not trying to get in with any one, not even with you. I did it because I believe in getting games by winning ’em, not by stealing ’em.” The captain clenched his fists and glared. “You won’t get the chance to win any more on _my_ team, I can tell you that. No team is big enough to hold us two, after to-day’s work!” “All right!” returned Thorne, who had recovered his self-control. “I’ll consider myself fired.” On escaping from the council chamber, Talbot spent half a dollar of precious allowance money in telephoning to various people the happy result of the meeting. Later, he went home and devoted the hour before dinner to composing a letter to Thorne, which should express his admiration of Thorne’s honesty and courage. It was a difficult letter to write, because it was necessary to praise Thorne without condemning his schoolmates, for Thorne was not one to listen with pleasure to abuse of his associates by an outsider. As Thorne did not answer this letter, Talbot concluded that he must have bungled it.