“No, but we’ve got to be prepared. We may never have a chance to score from the field in that game, but we want to have the goods if the chance does come.”
“Of course. Who is the fellow, Mr. Haynes?”
“Le Gette,” replied the coach promptly.
Stuart looked startled. “Steve Le Gette?” he exclaimed.
The coach nodded. “Yes, I’m trying him at guard in Towne’s place and I think he’ll fit. I’ll tell him to see you after practice and you can fix a time for the instruction I hope.”
Stuart was frowning at his scarred hands. “We—he and I aren’t very friendly, sir,” he muttered.
“I know that, but this is a time when such things don’t matter, Harven,” answered the other quietly. “Each of you has a duty to perform for the team. Personal differences can be forgotten for an hour or so each day, I fancy.”
Stuart was silent a moment. Then: “I can do it if he can,” he replied.
“Good!” Mr. Haynes stretched out his hand and Stuart had put his in it before he realized what was happening. He even grinned a little in response to the coach’s smile. Afterwards he told himself that he wished Haynes wasn’t so keen on hand-shaking. “Much obliged, Harven,” the coach went on. “Don’t spare Le Gette. He’s game for all you can pile on to him. See what you can do in a week. If you think I can help, let me know, but I shan’t butt in on you. It’s up to you and Le Gette.” He nodded and hurried off down the side line.
When the second period started Stuart took Wheaton’s place at quarter and, it seemed to him, did better than he had done any day since his return. He was not confident enough to carry the ball himself, although had he tried a quarterback run in one instance and made it good he might have added another six points to the first team’s score. But he ran the team with not a little of his old brilliance, and Coach Haynes, following the plays, smiled thoughtfully.