“Perhaps,” suggested Jack Nelson maliciously, “he’s suffering from an attack of indigestion. Wild duck is pretty heavy food, you know.”
“Look out,” retorted Roy, “that you don’t have to eat crow yet.”
Another five minutes passing, and the quarterback failing to arrive, Stone decided to send out for him.
“Here, Tommy,” he called to Tommy Shea, the mascot of the team, “you go find Sage and tell him to get a move on. We must have our regular warming up before the game, and I’ll guarantee Barville is on the field now. I can’t see what’s happened to keep him away. Stir yourself, Tommy.”
As the little fellow dusted out of the gymnasium there came through the momentarily opened door the sound of a hearty Barville cheer, which, doubtless, proclaimed the advent of the visitors on the adjacent field.
“They must have plenty of confidence in their team,” said Bob Collins, “for they’ve certainly sent over a big bunch of rooters. People have been coming from Barville in all sorts of turnouts for the past two hours.”
“All the more gate money for us,” exulted the optimistic Cooper. “In fancy I can hear the merry jingle of their quarters. They can give us as many as they please, but we’ll give them no quarter to-day. Nevertheless, without Sage we’d be a quarter short, and we’d feel it before the end of the first half. Mercy! I surrender! Spare me!”
No one paid the slightest attention to him, however, which led him disgustedly to mutter something about casting pearls before swine.
In a short time Tommy Shea returned, followed closely by Sage, whose face was flushed and who betrayed some tokens of unusual excitement. At least, this was what the watchful Piper thought, and he became, if possible, more watchful than ever.
“Met him on the way, captain,” the mascot reported to Stone.