In the locker-house after the game Mills had some sharp things to say, and didn’t hesitate to say them in his best manner.  There was absolutely no favoritism shown; he began at one end of the line and went to the other, then dropped back to left half, took in quarter on the way, and ended up with full.  Some got off easy; Neil was among them; and so was Devoe, for it is not a good policy for a coach to endanger a captain’s authority by public criticism; but when it was all over no one felt slighted.  And when all were beginning to breathe easier, thinking the storm had passed, it burst forth anew.

“Cowan, I don’t see how you came to drop that ball,” said Mills, in fresh exasperation.  “Why, great Scott, man, there was no one touching you except a couple of schoolboys tugging at your legs!  What was the matter?  Paralysis?  Vertigo?  Or haven’t you learned yet, after two years of football playing, to hang on to the ball?  There’s a cozy nook waiting on the second scrub for fellows like you!”

Cowan, his pride already sorely wounded, found the last too much for his temper.

“No one can help an occasional accident,” he blurted.  “If I did fumble, there’s no reason why you should insult me.  Lots of fellows have fumbled before and got off without being walked on.  I’ve played my position for two years, and I guess I know how to do it.  But when a fellow is singled out as a—­a scapegoat—­”

“That will do, Cowan,” interrupted Mills quietly.  “You’ve lost your temper.  We don’t want men on this team who can’t stand criticism—­”

“Criticism!” sneered Cowan, looking very red and ugly.

“Yes, criticism!” answered Mills sharply, “and scolding, too, my friend.  I’m here to turn out a team that will win from Robinson and not to cater to any one’s vanity; when it’s necessary, I’m going to scold and say some hard things.  But I’ve never insulted any fellow and I never will.  I’ve had my eye on you ever since practise began, Cowan, and let me tell you that you haven’t at any time passed muster; your playing’s been slovenly, careless, and generally mean.  You’ve soldiered half the time.  And I think we can get along without you for the rest of the season.”

Mills, his blue eyes sparkling, turned away, and Stowell and White, who for a minute past had been striving to check Cowan’s utterances, now managed to drag him away.

“Shut up!” whispered White hoarsely.  “Don’t be a fool!  Come out of here!” And they hauled him outside, where, on the porch, he gave vent anew to his wrath until they left him finally in disgust.

He slouched in to see Paul after dinner that evening, much to Neil’s impatience, and taking up a commanding position on a corner of the study-table, recited his tale of injustice with great eloquence.  Paul, who had spent the afternoon with other unfortunates on the benches, was full of sympathy.

“It’s a dirty shame, Tom,” he said.  “And I’m glad you waded into Mills the way you did.  It was fine!”