But the doctor would not have it. "Jock," he said quietly, "just get us
through at Queen Street."

"All right, Sir," replied Jock with great regret. "It will be as you
say."

Under Jock's orders, when Queen Street was reached, the men at the
horses' heads suddenly swung the pair from the crowd, and after some
struggling, got them safely into the clear space, leaving the procession
to follow the van, loudly cheering their great International captain,
whose prowess on the field was equalled only by his modesty and his
hatred of a demonstration.

"Listen to the idiots," said Dunn in disgust, as the carriage bore them
away from the cheering crowd.

"Man, they're just fine! Aren't they, Father?" said young Rob in an
ecstasy of joy.

"They're generous lads, generous lads, boy," said Doctor Dunn, his old
eyes shining, for his son's triumph touched him deeply. "That's the only
way to take defeat."

"That's all right, Sir," said Dunn quickly, "but it's rather
embarrassing, though it's awfully decent of them."

The doctor's words suggested fresh thoughts to young Rob. "But it was
terrible; and you were just on the win, too, I know."

"I'm not so sure at all," said his brother.