know just how you could have played better. But—just the same, it was n't good enough. This second half you've got to do better. Every one among you must be a little better than himself. Then that way, all together, you can make up for not having your captain in the game."
He patted Rupert's shoulder and smiled, and the eleven and the substitutes clapped in a way that showed they had taken his speech to heart. When he had sat down, Harry Harding, trailing his red blanket, came round behind the carriage and up to the side on which Ward was.
"How do you do, Mr. Ward?" he said shyly. "I guess you don't remember me. I'm Harry Harding."
"Of course I remember you!" cried Ward, reaching out his hand. "You've grown a good deal, but I'd know you anywhere for Clark's brother. What do you hear from him?"
"The last letter I had was written from Cairo a month ago," said Harry. "He and Archer Sands were going up the Nile."
"I've heard from him since then, I think.
