“Well, of course it’s mighty hard on Rice. He’s an awfully fine fellow and he had the place cinched until I—I butted in.”
“Fortunes of war,” said Jonesie.
“Maybe, and I wouldn’t care if—if I wasn’t afraid that I—well, had sort of come by my good luck unfairly.”
“Eh?” ejaculated Jonesie.
“You know what I mean.”
“Can’t say I do, Wigman.”
“Well, you can’t deny, I suppose, that if it hadn’t been for you I wouldn’t have got the chance to show what I could do. Because it’s dollars to doughnuts, Jones, that Cutler meant to drop me the second week of practice. You remember?”
“Yes, oh, yes,” answered the other hurriedly. “Still——”
“Well, that’s what’s bothering me. Sometimes I think I ought to drop out and give Rice a fair show. I don’t mean that I got my place by favoritism, exactly, but I guess there’s no use pretending that if it wasn’t for your interceding for me with Bingham, Rice would still be first-string quarter.”
“Hm,” said Jonesie judicially.