“That’s all very well, but suppose, we lose again Saturday!”
“We won’t,” replied Fred confidently. “We can beat High School without trouble. The only thing is that it won’t be much of a victory when we get it! I wish it was Musket Hill next Saturday instead of High School.”
“We can’t wait much longer,” protested the manager. “We need coin, Fred. We owe so many bills now that I’m ashamed to walk through town! Hang it, the money’s here. Why can’t we get hold of it? If it was the baseball team that needed it the fellows would fall all over themselves passing it out!”
“We’re not popular,” said Fred, with a grimace.
Coach Driscoll, who had listened tranquilly to the discussion, took his pipe from his mouth and viewed it thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t count too much on a win next week,” he said. “I’m planning to use a good many second-string fellows Saturday.” The pipe went back again and he viewed Fred untroubledly.
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Lowell. “That’ll never do, Coach!”
“Is it necessary?” asked Fred dubiously.
The coach nodded. “Very,” he answered. “The subs have got to taste blood if they’re going to be any use. Just putting them in for a few minutes at the end of a game doesn’t do much good. I want to start with practically a substitute line-up Saturday; Bradford, French, Buffum, Conlon maybe, and so on. You can start if you like and Dannis had better run them: and we’ll keep Wirt in the backfield. I don’t say that we won’t win even with that bunch. I don’t know much about the High School team. But I wouldn’t consider it a foregone conclusion, fellows.”
“That means waiting another week,” said Lowell disgustedly.