“Yes,” corroborated Willard gravely.
“Too bad,” murmured Jack. “Too bad you aren’t your brother, Harmon!”
“Well, Brand’s doing pretty well where we had him today,” said Joe.
“Rather!” agreed the other. “He surely had one fine moment this afternoon. If it hadn’t been for that Lorimer end or half—which was he? Half?—well, if it hadn’t been for him Harmon would have scored in a romp!”
“That’s the trouble with C Formation,” replied Joe. “If the runner does get away he has no interference half the time. The end’s supposed to get free and go ahead, but he can’t do it very often. The more I think about today’s game, fellows, the more certain I am that we were mighty lucky to break even! Lorimer ought to have won on the showing she made.”
“Well, she didn’t,” answered Jack cheerfully. “And results count.”
Up ahead, Bob was questioning Martin regarding the latter’s lack of enthusiasm for onions. “What is it you don’t like about them, Mart? The taste or the smell or what?”
“I don’t like either,” said Martin. “Folks who eat onions belong to a low order of humanity. Criminals and idiots and such folks are always fond of them, I’ve read.”
“Where do you get that stuff?” asked Stacey Ross. “Look at Garibaldi.”