n lost the game, and
I say he's a rank 'quitter,' as Martin would say."

"Look here, Nesbitt," the captain's voice was quiet, but every man
paused in his rubbing. "I know how sore you are and I forgive you that;
but I don't want to hear from you or from any man on the team that word
again. Cameron is no quitter; he made--he made an error,--he wasn't
fit,--but I say to you Cameron is no quitter."

While he was speaking the door opened and into the room came a player,
tall, lanky, with a pale, gaunt face, plastered over the forehead with
damp wisps of straight, black hair. His deep-set, blue-grey eyes swept
the room.

"Thanks, Dunn," he said hoarsely. "Let them curse me! I deserve it all.
It's tough for them, but God knows I've got the worst of it. I've played
my last game." His voice broke huskily.

"Oh, rot it, Cameron," cried Dunn. "Don't be an ass! Your first big
game--every fellow makes his mistake--"

"Mistake! Mistake! You can't lie easily, Dunn. I was a fool and worse
than a fool. I let myself down and I wasn't fit. Anyway, I'm through
with it." His voice was wild and punctuated with unaccustomed oaths; his
breath came in great sobs.

"Oh, rot it, Cameron!" again cried Dunn. "Next year you'll be twice the
man. You're just getting into your game."

Right loyally his men rallied to their captain:

"Right you are!"

"Why, certainly; no man gets into the game first year!"

"We'll give 'em beans next year, Cameron, old man!"

They were all eager to atone for the criticism which all had held in
their hearts and which one of them had spoken. But this business was
serious. To lose a game was bad enough, but to round on a comrade was
unpardonable; while to lose from the game a half-back of Cameron's
calibre was unthinkable.

Meanwhile Cameron was tearing off his football togs and hustling on his
clothes with fierce haste. Dunn kept his eye on him, hurrying his own
dressing and chatting quietly the while. But long before he was ready
for the street, Cameron had crushed his things into a bag and was
looking for his hat.

"Hold on! I'm with you; I'm with you in a jiffy," said Dunn.

"My hat," muttered Cameron, searching wildly among the jumble.

"Oh, hang the hat; let it go! Wait for me, Cameron. Where are you
going?" cried Dunn.

"To the devil," cried the lad, slamming the door behind him.

"And, by Jove, he'll go, too!" said Nesbitt. "Say, I'm awfully sorry I
made that break, Dunn. It was beastly low-d