“You start it,” whispered Gary. “You know him better. I’ll dig in afterwards.”
“Mr. Hanks, may we speak to you a minute, sir?” asked Jim as the instructor met them. Mr. Hanks dropped the hand holding the book he had been reading and brought his thoughts back with a visible effort.
“Er—certainly.”
“Gary and I, sir, are both in wrong at the Office, as you know. Now Curtis has gone home and the team’s in a bad way for a fellow to take his place in the line. We’ve been to see Mr. Gordon and he’s gone away and may not be back until to-morrow noon. That will be too late, sir. Wouldn’t you be willing to say a good word for us, sir, to Mr. Gordon? Tell him we—we’re sorry and—and all that, and ask him if we can’t play to-morrow?”
Mr. Hanks looked blank. “I—I don’t quite understand,” he said. “You want me to intercede for you with Mr. Gordon?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Gary. “I guess I deserved what I got, Mr. Hanks, but I’ve been on probation for nearly a month now. I’m sorry for what I did and I—I beg pardon, sir, I wouldn’t have asked any favors for myself, sir, but the team’s in a rotten mess now that Curtis can’t play and it needs me badly, needs both of us.”
“I—I’m afraid, I don’t quite get your meaning about this—this team. What sort of a team is it, Gary?”
“Why, the football team, sir! To-morrow’s the big game of the season, you know; Hawthorne. And we’re going to get licked as sure as shooting if either Hazard or I don’t get back.”
“Am I to understand,” asked Mr. Hanks in puzzled tones, “that Mr. Gordon has forbidden you to play in the game?”
“Why, of course,” replied Gary a trifle impatiently. “I haven’t played since he put me on probation. And Hazard here had to give up last Monday. You can’t play if you don’t keep up with your studies.”