“Not likely,” replied the centre sadly. “This thing doesn’t do much. Doc says a double fracture is always slower work than a single one. He’s as pleased as pickles about it, the silly chump. Smiles all over his face whenever he looks at it. I wish he had it!”
“I don’t see then but that Rowland has a pretty good chance to get in against Kenwood.”
“Chance? It’s a dead sure thing. I’m not knocking Terry Conlon, but he won’t last the game. You know that yourself. Terry plays like a house on fire at first and then begins to let up. Oh, Rowland will get in all right. I hope he does, too. He’s worked like a Trojan.”
“I haven’t minded it much,” said Ira. “All that’s worrying me is the fear that Mr. Driscoll will change his mind about me again and try to make an end of me!”
“Look out that Beadle doesn’t make an end of you!” laughed Basker.
“Who’s Beadle?” Ira asked.
“The Kenwood centre. He’s a peach of a player, isn’t he, Bill?”
“Beadle,” replied Almy slowly, “is about as good a centre rush as you’ll find on a prep school team today. That’s saying something, too. He’s as pretty a player to watch as I ever saw. I’m sorry I’m not to try him again. I’ve been thinking I’d give him a better fight this time. Last year he put it all over me, and I don’t mind owning up to it. The man’s as quick as greased lightning.”
“He’s as strong as an elephant, too,” added Basker. “And he plays hard. You’ll subscribe to that, eh, Bill?”