“I’ll leave it to Jeff if I’m not right,” declared Poke.
“Whereupon Jeffrey very quietly and understandingly explained Rule XIX in all its phases, while the others listened in respectful and admiring silence.
“I say,” exclaimed Poke when Jeffrey had finished, “you certainly know the rules, Senator. I’ll bet you you wrote them yourself!”
Jeffrey smilingly denied this but acknowledged that he always studied them very carefully each year, adding, “You see, I like to watch football mighty well, even if I can’t play it, and unless you know the rules of the game well enough to know just what’s being done all the time, and why, you don’t thoroughly enjoy it.”
“Well,” said Gil, “I guess you know them better than most of the fellows who play. I believe I’ll get a rule book and study up a little myself.”
“You wouldn’t understand them,” said Poke. “It takes a chap with a whole lot of brains to make head or tails of that stuff. Why, bless you, fellows, I was looking through a book of rules before I left home. Give you my word I tried the hardest I knew how to make out what it was all about, and could I? I could—not! So I pitched the silly book in the waste-basket. And I wouldn’t be at all surprised to hear that the ashman found it and has gone crazy.”
“Well, that’s about all you need to know at first, Jim,” said Gil. “You’ll pick it up quick enough. The main thing is to know how to hold a ball so it won’t bite you, to kick a little, throw a little—”
“Won’t need to know that if he plays in the line,” said Poke. “If he can block and break through and help the runner—”
“Well, I guess I’ve had enough for to-night,” said Jim. “I guess I’d better pay a little attention to my lessons. Looked at your Latin yet, Jeff?”