“Not wanted? Why not?”
“Williams is in.”
“Williams! In my place? What for?” Monty sat up very suddenly and stared amazedly toward the field. At the farther end the game was going on without him! Monty gave a lunge that almost sent Davy on his face and struggled to his feet. “Here,” he cried, “I’m in that!”
“No, you’re not, lad. You’re off. You did your share. Come on across to the bench and get a blanket on you.”
“But—but I made the touchdown, didn’t I?” demanded Monty anxiously.
“Sure you did. And Winslow kicked goal. Come on now.”
“But—when? Where was I? Do you mean they kicked goal while I was lying there?”
“They did. Maybe you wanted them to wait for you,” said the trainer sarcastically.
“Oh!” Monty suffered Davy to put an arm under his elbow and lead him across the corner of the gridiron. “He might have let me play it out,” he added after a moment.
“Sure, you’d be playin’ a fine game, wouldn’t you? There’s only a minute or two more, lad. Let the other fellow have his chance.”