“True, but we’ve got to find the dozen,” answered Mr. Driscoll. “We can’t afford to miss any bets this year, Cap. We’ll call the first-choice backs together at four. That’ll give us half an hour for kindergarten stuff. But I want a couple more fellows to take hold. Who are they?”
“Search me! Why not double them up, sir?”
“They’ve been doubled up—or pretty nearly. Cummins has about thirty to look after and Cater twenty-four or five. That’s too many. Sixteen’s enough for a squad. How about Garrison?”
“He isn’t here. I don’t know what——”
“He’s cut,” interposed Farnsworth. “Got a conference at four.”
“Conference! Gee, why couldn’t he have that some other time?” asked Jud Mellen.
“Time to start, sir,” said Farnsworth, looking at his watch.
“All right, let’s get at it. But I wish I could think—Who’s that fellow there, Mellen?” Mr. Driscoll dropped his voice. Mellen turned and looked at Myron and shook his head.
“I don’t know him, Coach. Who is he, Ken?”