“Well, we had a pretty fair eleven in the city I came from, and I was lucky enough to belong to them,” he said modestly. “I don’t know that I shone as a star very much, but on the whole, we managed to keep up our end, and last year we pulled off the championship in our section of country.”
“What position did you fill?” queried Toby.
“Our captain made a half-back of me,” came the answer. “Somehow he seemed to believe I was better suited for that position than a tackle, though I wanted to be in the other place at the start. But it happened there were two sprinters better fitted than I was to hold down the job. So unless I run across a man who seems to show signs of being my superior in the field I’ve occupied, I suppose I’ll continue to play half-back to the end of the chapter.”
“Well,” remarked Toby, as Jack made out to pick up his cap with the intention of leaving, since the hour was getting late, “one more day, and then what? A whole twenty-four hours for things to happen calculated to bust up our plans, and knock ’em galley-west. I wish, this was Friday night, and nothing serious had come about. We need that big game to make us solid with the people of Chester. It might be hard on poor Harmony, but it would be the making of our town.”
“Hearing you say that,” chuckled Jack, “makes me think of that story of the old man and his boy’s bull-pup.”
“I don’t know that I’ve ever heard it, so fire away and tell the yarn, Jack,” the other pleaded.
“Why, once a boy had a young bull-pup of which he was very fond. His father also took considerable interest in teaching the dog new tricks. On one occasion the old man was down on his knees trying to make the small dog jump at him, while the boy kept sicking him on. Suddenly the bull-pup made a lunge forward and before the old man could draw back he had gripped him by the nose, and held on like fun. Then the boy, only thinking of how they had succeeded in tempting the small dog, clapped his hands and commenced to dance around, shouting: ‘Swing him around, dad, swing him every which way! It’s hard on you, of course, but I tell you it’ll be the making of the pup!’”
Toby laughed as Jack finished the anecdote, which it happened he had never heard before.
“Well, Harmony will be dad, and the bull-pup I know turns out to be Chester, bent on holding through thick and thin to victory. I’m glad you came over, Jack, and if I’ve been able to hand you out a few pointers we haven’t wasted our time.”
“I noticed when on the way here that it had clouded up,” remarked Jack. “Let’s hope we don’t get a storm that will compel us to postpone that game. Our boys are in the pink of condition, with so much practice, and might go stale by another week.”