“Look here, Endicott,” he said in the gymnasium before afternoon football practice, “don’t you know we’ve got a game with Frawley’s to-morrow?”
“Of course I know it, Johnny. Why?”
“Then you cut out this canoe race business, my boy. I’m not going to have you get tired and go stale at this time of the season.”
“But, Johnny—”
“Cut it out, I tell you! If you don’t I’ll see Sargent and you’ll get in trouble.”
Poke thought hard for a moment. Then he drew the coach aside and there ensued a whispered conference in a corner of the locker room, during which a smile crept into Johnny’s face, a smile that finally became a full-fledged grin.
“Oh, well, all right, if that’s it,” he said at last. “But mind you don’t get tired, now.”
“I won’t,” Poke promised. “And don’t you say a word to any one, Johnny. If you do you’ll spoil the whole show.”
“I won’t. What time’s this race to be?”