“I guess I didn’t do so badly,” Jud allowed. “But that Dobbins was the corker, when you come right down to brass tacks, don’t you think so?”
“Dobbins played as remarkable a game as I’ve seen in a long, long time,” was the reply. “The way he opened holes in the D. and R. line was pretty. They weren’t holes, either, they were—were nice, broad boulevards! A stick of dynamite wouldn’t have made more of a mess of their centre!”
“And he’s all there on defence, too,” said Jud. “Steady as a concrete wall. He and Keith work like twins.”
“Pretty,” agreed Mr. Driscoll. “I guess there’s no question as to who’ll play right guard against Kenwood. I wish, though, I knew who was going to play full-back.” Mr. Driscoll frowned. “You’re sure Foster’s out of it?”
“Fairly. I only know what you know. I haven’t seen him. I’m not surprised, though. He was beginning to show a good deal of side and you know yourself that when a fellow gets his head swelled he comes a cropper one way or another.”
“I know. Still, we mustn’t be too hard on the boy, for we’ve paid him a good deal of attention and that’s likely to turn a chap’s head unless it’s screwed on pretty tightly. And we’ve worked him hard, too. Maybe he hasn’t had time to do enough studying.”
“Well, he’s out of it, anyway. It’s hard luck, for I thought he was coming along finely. I guess it will have to be Kearns, after all.”
The coach nodded. “I haven’t lost hope of Kearns yet, Cap. He’s got it in him to play good football. I was wondering, though, if we could spare Brounker for the position. He’s a good half, but we may not need him there, and perhaps with some coaching between now and three weeks from now he’d be better than Kearns.”
“I suppose there’s a chance of Foster getting clear before the Kenwood game,” said Jud doubtfully, “but he wouldn’t be much use to us.”