“Well, you’d better make up your mind. When Coach yells for an end the next time, sing out and race on there. That’s the only way you’ll get a chance. Beat the other fellow to it, Toby.”
“I’d be afraid he’d take me,” answered Toby dryly. “I don’t know any more about playing end than—than you do center!”
Sid grinned. “You watch me, Toby. I’m going to fade Watson before this season’s much older, my child. Honest, I really believe I’ve got a chance to stick this year. Of course, it’s a bit early yet, but——”
“What’s he yelling?” interrupted Toby. Play had paused, a youth was limping to the side-line and Coach Burtis was shouting toward the bench.
“Quarter,” said Sid. He looked left and right along the benches. Here and there a player squirmed indecisively but none appeared to have enough courage to offer his services. “Guess all the quarters are used up,” mused Sid.
Trainer Harris added his voice to the coach’s. “Aren’t there any quarter-backs over there? Get a move on, somebody! Any of you!”
“Coming!” shouted Toby, throwing aside his blanket and jumping to his feet.
“He said quarter, you idiot!” hissed Sid. “You aren’t a quarter!”
“How do you know?” laughed Toby. “I don’t!”