"You wouldn't be going to the nine with the proper spirit," the Owl said. "The 70 per cent. rule for athletics means that a fellow must honestly be entitled to play on the nine. You don't care anything for the marks; you're just thinking about your fun. I can't help you."
"You can't Say, what are you trying to do, be funny? What's the matter with me."
"You're not going into this with the proper spirit." The Owl shifted his books under the other arm and abruptly began to walk toward the school entrance. His stooped shoulders straightened a bit as though to throw off an indignity that had been thrust upon him.
Martin sprang forward and caught his arm. "You refuse to go through with this?" he cried. "You mean you'll throw down the nine?"
"You're not interested in marks. Why should I waste time on you?"
In the Owl's sallow face the shortstop read a determination that would not be shaken. Anger flamed through his veins and echoed in his voice.
"All right, you fool; but you'll be sorry. You can't try anything like that and get away with it. I'll tell this all over the school. Before night the whole gang will be on your back. You'll be coming to me to-morrow and begging me to let you help me."
