“N-no,” said Leonard, “I guess I’ll stick where I was to-day—if I get another chance to.”
“You’ll get the chance,” predicted Slim. “And I don’t know but what you’re right, at that. You’ll learn a heap more and learn it quicker playing opposite Billy than you would against Butler.”
Disquieting rumors had reached Alton from Lorimer Academy. The Lorimer team was said to be unusually good this season, and since when only ordinarily good it gave Alton a hard battle, it was considered wise to make a few extra preparations for the next game. The result of this decision was to eliminate scrimmage on Thursday. Instead the first team and substitutes underwent a double dose of signal drill and learned two new plays. Perhaps the plays weren’t exactly new; few are any longer; but they were new to Alton, and Coach Cade devoutly hoped that they’d be new to Lorimer! Leonard, trailing his blanket around the sod in the wake of the team, was disappointed, for he had hoped to get another try-out to-day and had earnestly resolved to comport himself so much better than yesterday that Quarterback Appel would ask no more despairing questions of the heavens. But it was not to be. Instead, he was relegated to the rôle of looker-on, he and some twenty others, and so wandered up and down the field behind the workers, supposedly imbibing wisdom as he went. Finally all were dismissed except a handful of kickers and sent back to the gymnasium and showers.
The first cut was announced the next morning, and that afternoon the second team came into being. Leonard was as surprised as relieved to find his name not among the seventeen on the list. He read it three times to make sure. Then he remembered that there would be other cuts coming, and felt less jubilant. There was a long and hard scrimmage that Friday afternoon, but he didn’t get into it. However, since the coach had his thoughts centered on the morrow’s contest that day, Leonard was not unduly chagrined. It wasn’t likely that any fellow who hadn’t a chance of being called on to face Lorimer would command Mr. Cade’s attention to-day. The new plays didn’t go any too well, and some of the older ones went little better. On the whole, there was a general air of dissatisfaction apparent about the field and, later, in the locker room of the gymnasium. Of course, as Slim remarked, walking back to hall with Leonard, beating Lorimer “wasn’t anything to get het up about, but, just the same and nevertheless and notwithstanding, it would sort of feel good to hand those lads a wallop!”
“I’ve got a hunch we’ll win,” said Leonard comfortably.
“You have, eh? Well, I’ve got a hunch that we’ll have to show more form than we did to-day if we do lick ’em,” answered Slim grimly. “No one had any punch this afternoon. I don’t blame Johnny for being sore.”
“Was he?” asked Leonard, surprised.
“Was he! I’ll say he was! Don’t you know the symptoms yet?”
Leonard shook his head apologetically. “I guess I don’t. He didn’t say much, did he?”
“No, he said mighty little. That’s his way. When he gets sore he shuts his mouth like a clam. Oh, of course, he talks up to a certain point, but after that—” Slim shook his head. “This afternoon he was so silent it was creepy! I wouldn’t be much surprised if there was a fine old shake-up about Monday. Well, we who are about to die salute you!”