"What's happened to you?" continued Fire Crackers with great seriousness.
Moore, perceiving he had blundered again, grew red with mortification, while Fire Crackers stripped the sweater from him and examined the jersey.
"Say, just see what Bill sold him!" he exclaimed. "Isn't it a shame how he'll impose on the green ones? Look at that bed ticking! And those pads! Gee, I'll fix that!"
Before Moore could protest, Fire Crackers had ripped off the protections and flung them away.
"Now you'll feel easier," he said with a friendly smile. "Bill Appleby is an infernal old swindler: selling you shin-guards and a nose-protector! Huh! Throw 'em away."
"Thank you, sir," said Moore gratefully, "I'll make him take them back."
"That's right," said his inquisitor with a queer nod, "you're pretty green at this, aren't you?"
"I have never done much, sir."
"Well, let me give you a pointer; when you tackle, you want to grit your teeth and slam down hard, then you don't feel it at all."