The Cubs were too discouraged even to discuss the situation. Chub now would have to go into the game as a forward. That meant that Dan would be shifted to guard, given the task of trying to hold Pat to a minimum of baskets.
“We’re sunk,” he admitted privately to Brad as they laced their tennis shoes in the dressing room.
“Probably,” the Den Chief agreed. “Let’s do our best though. And if we’re licked, let’s take it like good sports.”
An even larger crowd had gathered in the gymnasium than for the first game of the series. Fred jubilantly reported that despite a poor advance ticket sale, thirty-seven dollars had been taken in at the door.
“One man paid a dollar,” he told the Cubs. “Said he wanted to help with the organization’s defense fund.”
“And we have to give Pat and his chislers half of the receipts!” Red remarked bitterly. “It’s unfair!”
In glancing over the audience, Dan noticed many neighbors and other persons he knew. However, on the front row he observed a tall, thin man rather poorly dressed, whose face he did not recognize.
“Who is he?” Dan asked Brad, pointing out the stranger.
“No one I ever saw before. I don’t think he was here last game.”
“See how he keeps watching Chub,” Dan directed the other’s gaze. “I guess it must be because the kid’s so unsure of himself.”