"I've got a tough scalp," was the untroubled reply. "Anyway, we've got to have at least one good tackle. Great Scott, George, you don't seem to realise what we're up against. Why, Phillips went into Trow and Tyler Saturday as if they were paper! They're old-style tackles, both of them. No one's ever told them that the game has changed since the day when tackles were just linemen! Here, I'm going over there and see what 'Boots' has got in his outfit."
There was no scrimmage with the 'varsity that afternoon, and Mr. Boutelle was putting his second team through a hard practice when Joe Detweiler appeared on the second's gridiron. "Boots" viewed his advent with suspicion and joined him with a belligerent expression on his face.
"What are you doing over here, you spy?" he demanded. "Trying to get our signals!"
"No, just looking," replied the other innocently.
"Looking at my tackles, maybe, eh! You tell George he can't have any of them. How the dickens does he suppose I'm going to make a team if he keeps pulling a man out every little while?"
"That what he's been doing!" asked Detweiler sympathetically, his hands in his pockets and his gaze fixed speculatively on the squad that was dashing past. "That's Thayer on this end, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," agreed "Boots" reluctantly. "Suppose you'd like him, wouldn't you?"
"Well, you know the fix we're in over there, old man. Saunders is out of it for a fortnight and Trow and Tyler haven't any ginger at all. We might give him back to you next week, you know."
"Oh, yes, I know! You're likely to! What I'll get will be that fellow Crewe. I don't want him, understand? I wouldn't have him on my team. Look here, if you only want a tackle for a week or so, why don't you take Robbins? He's a good man, Robbins."
"Is he? Which is Robbins?" Mr. Boutelle pointed him out. Detweiler shook his head.