“Too bad,” Kenny sighed with suspicious meekness. “I won’t do it again.”
But the mischief was already done. All the way out to the gridiron some one would burst out every now and then with a few bars, and then suddenly close his jaws with a vicious snap and glare at the innocent quarter back.
The latter took his place in the line quickly. He had resolved to keep a good hold on his temper, and if Tempest was only halfway decent things would go all right. He did not want to precipitate an outbreak, for he knew that it would only make a bad matter worse.
“There are only a few days more,” he thought to himself, “and then it will be all over. I’ll try and be good unless he shoves me too hard.”
Unfortunately, the captain of the varsity was not in the best of humors. He had been worrying over a certain complicated pass, which he wanted to use in the great game, but of which he felt rather doubtful. He knew its value if it were only properly done, but he wasn’t at all sure that the fellows were familiar enough with it to have it at their fingers’ ends.
Consequently he was a bit short in his manner when he ordered Kenny to start out with that play.
“Fool!” grumbled the quarter back to himself. “Don’t he give me credit for any sense? He might have known after the way things were left yesterday that I’d start out with that pass. You might think this was a kindergarten!”
He crouched, ripped out the signal, took the ball from Baulsir, and slammed it to Baxter, who passed close behind him. It was a fair pass, and the play went through successfully.
“Try it again,” ordered Tempest, as they lined up after the down. “Little more ginger, Kenny. Don’t hold onto the ball quite so long this time.”
Kenny flushed.