“I suppose so,” replied Willard doubtfully. “I don’t think I ever thought whether I am or not,” he added, laughing.
“You should be if what they say of him is true,” said McNatt earnestly. “I followed his work last season with much interest. A natural-born full-back, I’d call him. By the way, do you play, too?”
“A little. I’m out for the team.”
“Full-back? But no, you’d be too light. End, maybe?”
“Half,” said Willard. “I’ve played there some.”
“Hm.” McNatt looked him over critically. “Yes, you might do well there. You look fast. Ten pounds more wouldn’t hurt you, though.”
“You talk like a football chap yourself,” said Willard. “Do you play?”
McNatt shook his head. “I used to, but I got—ah—out of sympathy with it. You see, Harmon, football is capable of being reduced to an exact science, but played in the haphazard manner that they play it here it lacks interest. I haven’t played recently.”
“Well, I don’t see how you can reduce it to any exact science,” Willard objected. “Of course, if you knew beforehand what the other fellow was going to do—”