"No, but here comes Hatfield now. We'll ask him. He has some mail, perhaps he just heard."
"It's all right!" joyfully called the manager, waving a letter at Dick. "They'll play us next Saturday. Those coaches must have quite a pull."
"Will they put in their first team?" asked Dick anxiously, for there would be little glory in beating the Haskell scrub.
"They'll do that, and also come here to give us a game."
"On our own grounds? Good!" cried Paul. "We'll play our heads off!"
"It's great!" declared Dick. "I only hope we—but there of course we're going to win!" and he changed his sentence with an assumed confidence he hardly felt.
"Will we work any of the new plays on 'em?" asked Paul. "I like the wing shifts and the sequence plays."
"We'll work 'em if we get a chance," said Dick. "It will all depend on what sort of a game they put up. We may have to kick a lot."
"Well, we're up to snuff on that line," declared the manager. "Now I must arrange the details. I hope we get out a big crowd and make some money."
"And I hope the fellows come out to practice this afternoon," spoke Dick. "Come on Paul, we've got the science lecture on now."