“I see.” Jonesie considered thoughtfully. “Of course,” he went on presently, “there’s always the Class Team to fall back on. You’d make that, I guess, without much trouble.”
Wigman’s face fell. “Y-yes, but—but after what you said the other day, Jones, I—I sort of want to make the School Team—or the Second, anyway! You know you said first-year fellows had done it.”
“Did I? Yes, of course I did! Quite right, too. By the way, what position are you trying for?”
“Quarter.”
“Gee!” murmured Jonesie. “That—er—complicates it, doesn’t it?” In response to Wigman’s unspoken question he went on. “I mean that there’s only one quarterback position to fill and so, of course, it’s harder. You see that, eh? Now, if you were trying for end or tackle or guard or half you’d stand just twice the chance. Still——”
“I’ve always played quarter,” said Wigman. “I suppose I might try for half, though.”
“Well, there’s no hurry about that,” replied Jonesie. “I’ll speak to Bing about you. Of course I can’t promise anything. Bing’s a most conscientious chap and, while, of course, he’d do anything in reason for me, he might—er—there might be some reason why he couldn’t do this. There’s Cutler, for instance. Awfully opinionated cuss, that Coach. Hard to work with. Bing says so himself. Still, you sit tight, Wigman, and I’ll see what can be done.”
“Oh, thank you a thousand times, Jones!”
“Better not thank me until we see how it turns out,” warned Jonesie. “I may fall down, you see.”
“Even if you do I—I’ll feel mighty grateful to you, just the same. And—and I hope you don’t mind my asking you?”