"What's the good of being decent?" asked Paul dolefully. "I wish I'd gone to Robinson."
"No, you don't," said Neil. "You'd rather sit on the side-line at Erskine than play with a lot of hired sluggers."
"Much you know about it," Paul growled. "If I don't get into the Robinson game I'll--I'll leave college."
"But what good would that do?" asked Neil.
"I'd go somewhere where I'd stand a show. I'd go to Robinson or one of the smaller places."
"I don't think you'd do anything as idiotic as that," answered Neil. "It'll be hard luck if you miss the big game, but you've got three more years yet. What's one? You're certain to stand the best kind of a show next year."
"I don't see how. Gillam doesn't graduate until 1903."
"But you can beat him out for the place next year. All you need is more experience. Gillam's been at it two years here. Besides, it would be silly to leave a good college just because you couldn't play on the football team. Don't be like Cowan and think football's the only thing a chap comes here for."
"They've used him pretty shabbily," said Paul.
"That's what Cowan thinks. I don't see how they could do anything else."