“Tarver, Gilbert Tarver,” replied Willard gravely.
“I think I’ve called him Tarbox several times. Well, as I was saying, there is a possibility that some time he may call a play that I shall subconsciously rebel against and, under a certain mental condition, it might be that I would—ah—spill the beans.”
Willard went off into a gale of laughter. McNatt viewed him in mild surprise. “I’m afraid,” he said, gently reproving, “the result would be far from humorous. It is conceivable that it might, happening at a crucial moment in the contest, even prove disastrous to our fortunes!”
“I—I wasn’t laughing at that,” moaned Willard, wiping his streaming eyes. “I was laughing at—at your slang!”
“Slang? Oh!” McNatt smiled. “I dare say it did sound queer. I pick up quite a good deal of slang from Winfred. Well, I must get back. I’m working on a plan that will, I think, produce more certainty of result to the kick-off. You may have noticed how seldom the team in possession of the ball at the kick-off is able to concentrate defensively in the locality of the catch. My idea, if it proves practical—and I think it will—would enable the team to know where the ball would descend and so concentrate on that point. Well, I’ll see you again, Harmon.”
Willard reported the conversation to Martin, who was doing his best today to convince himself that what had every appearance of a cold in the head was merely a touch of hay fever, and Martin mixed laughter with his sniffles. “The poor nut,” he said. “He’d try to introduce science into eating a fried egg if he thought of it! How the dickens can the team know where a kick-off is going to land when the fellow who kicks the ball doesn’t know himself half the time? I suppose his idea is to have the ball brought back if it doesn’t go where it’s expected to! Say, Brand, remind me to get a Darlington paper tomorrow, will you? There ought to be something about last night’s job in it. I’ll bet those fresh chumps over at Hillsport are hopping mad today!”
“That’s a safe bet,” laughed Willard. “I only hope they’re not mad enough to raise a row about it.”
“How could they?” asked Martin indignantly. “Didn’t they do the same thing to us last fall? Much good it would do ’em if they did get sore! I guess faculty would have a pretty good comeback, son! Anyhow, you should worry. You didn’t have anything to do with it. Any more than I did,” added Martin after a moment.
Willard laughed. “It sounds fine the way you say it, Mart,” he answered, “but I guess faculty would have a lot of trouble getting your point of view. We were right there, old chap, and we even kept watch while the—the nefarious deed was perpetrated.”