In the middle of the stand a boy arose uncertainly and looked down. Mr. Dana saw him and beckoned impatiently. And when Kendall had wormed his way to the bottom he was over the rope and was pulling him along.
“Payson wants you,” he said. “Here, pull off that coat and vest. Who’s got a sweater to loan?” Several of the substitutes jumped to their feet.
“Take this, sir!”
“Thanks!” Mr. Dana selected one and tossed it to Kendall. “Get into it,” he said quickly. “Look after these things, somebody.” He tossed Kendall’s beloved gray coat and vest helter-skelter in the direction of the bench. “Come on,” he said.
Simms had just been buried under the big form of the Broadwood left guard when they reached Mr. Payson.
“Here’s your man, Payson,” announced Mr. Dana.
The coach took his eyes from the inert form of Simms for a moment and looked Kendall up and down.
“Dana says you can kick,” he said inquiringly.
“Yes, sir, some.”