“We ought to be in shape when we get back,” answered Jack. “We can’t afford to give Pearsall even one day’s start of us, Stuart.”
“Don’t you worry about Pearsall this year,” replied the other, smiling and confident. “We’re going to do her up brown.”
“Hope so.”
“Sure to! At least, we will if Haynes turns out all right. I’m still wishing, though, we’d gone after Corcoran.”
“What’s the use of wishing it?” asked Jack, with a shrug. “You know we couldn’t have paid his price. Take my advice, old son: forget Corcoran and make the best of ‘Hop’ Haynes. Anyhow, Stuart, don’t start out with a prejudice toward him.”
“Oh, I’ve got nothing against the man. I dare say he will do well enough. Still, you know yourself, Jack, he’s just a ‘small town’ coach: never did anything big.”
“If he had Manning wouldn’t have got him,” replied Jack. “He put in three successful years at Fisherville, though, and was assistant at Erskine a year before that.”
“Fisherville doesn’t play a team unless she knows she can beat it. Any one could coach Fisherville to win. Bet you I could myself!”
Jack smiled and shook his head. “You’re a great little quarterback, Stuart, and you’re the youngest captain Manning has ever had, and all that, but don’t ever try coaching, old son. You couldn’t do it.”
“How do you make that out?” demanded Stuart. “You don’t have to be a wonder to coach a football team.”