“Yes, and I’ll be playing football when you’re kicked off,” answered the other.
Dick shrugged and went his way, Halden following gloweringly to the gymnasium. In the locker room, Harry Warden crossed over and seated himself beside Dick on the bench in front of his locker. “Say, Bates,” he began, “you’ve done that sort of thing before, haven’t you?”
“What sort of thing?” asked Dick, a twinkle in his eye. “Fired a fellow off the squad without authority?”
Warden’s sober countenance showed the faintest ghost of a smile: or perhaps it was only the eyes that smiled. “I meant run off signals. I thought you showed a good deal of familiarity with the job.”
“Why, yes, I’ve done it before, quite often. I’ve played three years, two of them on my high school team. We all had to take hold and coach at times, Warden. Our real coach couldn’t give us a great deal of time. He worked in a hardware store, you see, and his boss didn’t care a great deal about football.” Dick smiled. “We couldn’t pay him anything and he couldn’t afford to lose his job.”
“What school was that?” asked Warden.
“Leonardville, Pennsylvania, High.” Dick watched to see if the information aroused recollection. It didn’t. Evidently Fame didn’t travel into New England.
“You played quarter-back?” Dick nodded. “Hm.” Warden rubbed a cheek reflectively. “What’s your weight?”
“One-fifty-one today.”
“You look lighter. That’s your build, though. I liked the way you handled that bunch of dubs today, Bates. Ever done much punting?”