“He might have said a whole lot more,” said little Durfee, captain and shortstop of the team, as he and Dan left the gymnasium together. “We certainly have been playing like a lot of chumps lately.”
“Yes, we’re all thinking too much about vacation, I guess,” Dan assented. “But it will be different after we get back again.”
“I hope so. Gee, but I want to win this year, Dan.” Durfee laughed at his own earnestness a moment later. “I suppose you always do if you happen to be captain,” he added.
“Of course. That’s the way I feel about football. I wanted Yardley to win last year bad enough, but it seems to me that if we get licked next fall, I’ll just want to throw myself in the river. It does make a difference, Harry. How is the pitching situation shaping, old man?”
“About the way you see,” answered Durfee, with a shrug of his square shoulders. “I guess it’ll be Reid for the big games, but he isn’t doing much. Servis hasn’t a thing but a whole lot of speed, Dan; and if he gets cornered, he goes up in the air like a skyrocket.”
“That’s funny, too,” said Dan, “for when he isn’t playing ball, Servis is as cool and collected as a—a cucumber.”
“I know. I’m hoping he will get over it a bit after he’s been through more. We’ll work him in every game we can, whether we win or lose. After all, it’s only the Broadwood game I give a rap about. Snow and Wallace have the making of good pitchers, I think, and we’re going to do all we can for them; but this thing of making pitchers for next year and not having a really first-class one now isn’t much fun. I suppose, though, that next year’s captain will thank me. And may be that will be you, Dan.”
“Not likely. Especially as I’m football captain.”
“That’s so; I’d forgotten that. Well, here I am. Hope you have a dandy time, Dan. Keep in training, won’t you? So long.”