Three names were mentioned, and thrice Dick shook his head.
"You can't fit a round peg in a square hole," he remarked. "I must have somebody who's played centre-half before."
"Ditto at inside-left, I suppose?" asked Lyon.
"Precisely, Lyon."
"Then I'm jiggered if you'll find anybody," said Lyon, in despair. "We shall have to field nine men and chance it."
Dick looked calmly round at the ring of dissatisfied faces. "Any other fellow got a proposal to make?" he inquired.
There were several negatives, some surly, some peevish.
"Very well," said Dick. "I must settle this little dilemma in my own way. The centre-half of the second eleven is young Osbody. The second-string inside-left is Robin Arkness. Both are sturdy kids, and will fill out the costumes fairly well. So to-day they play."
The speech of a Hyde Park "tub-thumper" could scarcely have met with more open ridicule than this. There was laughter of a sarcastic description; some even professed to believe that the captain was joking. Even Roger caught his breath a little in surprise. Osbody and Arkness were such striplings, after all. The wily Cuthbertian cracks would surely toy with them.
Unmoved by criticism, even smiling a little, Dick took from his pocket the list of the team and calmly wrote in the names of the unpopular substitutes he had chosen. Replacing the list, he turned to gaze out of the window at the landscape, whistling softly to himself.