McNatt chuckled. “It was football he came to see me about. He wanted me to play full-back. It seems the fellow they’ve got isn’t very satisfactory. You told me that, too, I think.”
“Yes, I did,” said Willard, “and I’m mighty glad you’re going to help us out, McNatt!”
McNatt frowned and shook his head. “Oh, but I’m not. I told Myers I couldn’t, you know. He—I don’t think he liked it.”
“You’re not!” exclaimed Willard incredulously. “But—but why?”
McNatt stared a moment as though a trifle surprised. “Why, I’m out of football, Harmon! I thought I told you that. I haven’t played since my second year here. I’ve given it up completely. You see, I hadn’t any patience with the fuddling way they taught it. Everything’s so hit-or-miss. No science at all. You acknowledged that yourself, Harmon.”
Willard nodded. “Yes, that’s true. But, look here, McNatt, it seems to me the game of football needs fellows like you; fellows, I mean, who—er—who realize what’s wrong with it and have the—the courage and brains to remedy it.”
McNatt tilted back and shook his head slowly. “They won’t listen, Harmon,” he said. “I tried Myers today. He couldn’t see what I meant at all. Just got very impatient and told me I was a slacker. I’m afraid Myers has a one-track mind, Harmon.”
“Joe is awfully anxious to beat Kenly,” replied Willard, “and he takes it for granted that every other fellow is just like he is. He loses sight of the fact that there are fellows here in school like you, McNatt, who don’t give a whoop whether Alton wins or doesn’t.”
McNatt shook his head almost violently. “You mustn’t say that,” he protested. “Although not actively participating in football any longer, Harmon, I am still vastly interested in it and follow it very carefully. And, naturally, I want Alton to defeat Kenly. Yes, indeed, decidedly! You mustn’t—ah—consider me unpatriotic.”
“Oh,” murmured Willard. “I didn’t understand. I thought—”