“I’m just wondering what’s going to happen to us Saturday,” Evan replied. “It’s all well enough to talk, Rob, but those fellows have it on us in lots of ways.”
“Well, how, Mr. Gloom?”
“In size and weight, for one thing.”
“Yes, that’s one weigh,” Malcolm interpolated. Evan threw a blue book at him, but missed.
“Yes, they have us there,” said Rob, “but we even that up by speed. Go ahead.”
“Well, but do we? If they can stop our end plays and spoil forward passes, our speed won’t count for so much. We’ll never be able to get through their line for consistent gains.”
“Why not? Other teams have. Why, that center trio of theirs isn’t so much. All they’ve got is weight. If we get the jump on them we’ll have them on the run in no time. And as for spoiling our forward passes, why, that’s easier said than done.”
“Anyway, we need a dry field,” said Evan. “If it’s a wet day it’ll be all up with us.”
“For goodness sake shut up! You’ve got us beaten now by about ten scores,” laughed Rob. “Don’t you get stage-fright, Mr. Quarter; we need your services. You take my word for it, Evan, that we can lick them. Just wait and see.”