“That’s not fair,” remonstrated Poke. “Jim got onto the team late and has had to learn a whole lot in a short time. Hang it, Gil, I haven’t been doing any too well at studies, myself, and I’ve been playing football long enough to know the ropes. I don’t wonder that Jim fell behind. The question now is can he catch up and square himself with the Office before Saturday?”
“Is it all studies or one or two?” asked Jeffrey.
Poke shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Why didn’t he say something to some of us? I noticed that he seemed rather down in the mouth, but I didn’t suspect this. I thought he was just worried for fear he wouldn’t make good at playing.”
“Who do you suppose started the trouble?” asked Gil. “Who do you and Jim have, Jeff?”
“Hanks in Latin and history, Groff in math, Arroway in English, Lewellyn in French and Thurston in physics.”
“Well, it might be ‘Gruff,’” said Gil, “or it might be ‘Boots.’ (‘Boots’ was the popular name for Mr. Thurston.) It isn’t likely that Hanks had anything to do with it; nor Lewellyn. As for English, why, no fellow has trouble in that course.”
“I’m not so sure about Nancy, though,” said Jeffrey. “Ever since we turned him into a tyrant he’s been pretty fussy about us having our lessons. But I think it was probably Groff that started the trouble. He gave Jim a calling-down in class last week.”
“Gruff always was a tartar,” grumbled Poke. “I never knew a mathematics instructor who wasn’t.”
“Well, the question is,” observed Gil, “is there anything we can do to pull Jim out of his hole? There’s five days yet before the game. Something might be done.”
“I don’t believe Johnny would let him play after being laid off,” said Poke gloomily. “Dun’s got a grouch against him, too.”