“Wait till I get hold of him!” said Blash. Then he laughed again. “Well, it was pretty cute, fellows. The joke was on me that time!”
[CHAPTER VIII]
HALDEN REPEATS
Of course the joke was too good to keep, and two days later Blash’s friends—and he had a good many—developed a disconcerting fashion of greeting him with: “Is Blashington in the house?” Blash, however, could take a joke as well as play one. Dick had secret doubts as to his right to accept credit for the conspiracy, for without Stanley it could never have been born. Still, like a great many other great ideas, it had, in a manner of speaking, fashioned itself, and perhaps Dick had had as much to do with it as Stanley.
On the following Monday Dick found himself again in charge of one of the squads in practice. He had a suspicion that Harry Warden had said a good word for him to the coach, for more than once he found the latter watching him. With this encouragement Dick buckled down and worked very hard with the somewhat discouraging material supplied him. Halden was not with him today, but there was an excellent understudy for him in the shape of a chunky youth named Davis. Davis was just as slow as Halden had been, but he didn’t gloom or grouch. He was cheerful and apologetic and really tried hard, and Dick took a good deal of trouble with him and was extremely patient. When the squads were called in and the scrimmage began Davis insinuated himself between Dick and a neighbour on the bench.
“Say, Bates, I’m mighty sorry I was so stupid. And it was white of you to let me down easy the way you did.”
“Oh, that’s all right. You tried, and that’s more than some of them did. Look here, Davis, why don’t you brush up on the signals a bit before tomorrow? You didn’t seem to remember them very well.”
“The trouble is that I can’t think quick enough, Bates. You say ‘Six! Twelve! Fourteen!’ and I know that I’m going to have the ball——”
“No, you’re not!” laughed Dick. “Not on those signals!”