use beating about the bush, Parsons. I've been mighty mean to you. I've played a low-down hand against you, but I'm not going to apologize—not now. I thought it was fair—in war, you know. I didn't want you to pitch in my place, but you've done me out of it."
"I think I acted square," said Tom quietly.
"Yes, you did. You were white. I wasn't. I didn't play fair about that wire nor yet about sneaking in the dormitory that night. You did. I suppose you know—about the night you were captured—the night of the freshman dinner."
"I think you knew it was I before you" began Tom.
"Yes, I knew it was you before I kicked you," went on Langridge, and he spoke as if he was getting through a disagreeable confession. "I—I didn't mean to boot you so hard, though. I thought maybe you'd give up pitching if you got a good crack on the arm, but you didn't."
"No, I'm not that kind."
"So I see. Well, you've got what you wanted and I got what I never expected. Now I want you to do me a favor."
"What is it?"
"I want you to refuse to pitch in the Fairview game."
Tom wondered whether he had heard aright.
"You want me to refuse" he began.
