“You did not! You were as bad as any of them. Pete Ness made one corking tackle the time he got that Southport guy over by the side-line, and I think it was Billy Haines made the other. Generally we just sort of tagged the other fellow on the shoulder and let him by!”
“Well, you’ve got to be polite to your guests,” replied Chick, grinning. “I did miss my tackles pretty awfully, though, and I know it as well as you do, old scout. Fact is, Bert, I haven’t been playing my real game yet. I guess it takes a fellow a week or so to get back into harness, eh? Oh, by the way, I told Coles we’d be around to see him this evening. He’s got some apples his folks sent him from New Hampshire or somewhere and he wants them eaten up before they go bad. He says the training table starts Wednesday evening, Bert.”
“I wonder if I’ll get on it.”
“Sure! Why not? At that, though, you’ll be lucky if you don’t. You get beastly tired of the grub after about a month of it.”
“I saw Mr. McFadden at the field to-day,” said Bert. “I guess they’ll be starting the Scrub Team pretty soon.”
“Next week, probably. Good thing, too, for the place is all littered up over there now.”
“I hope it doesn’t occur to Johnny to put me back where he got me,” Bert observed ruefully. “I dare say fellows do get dropped to the Second sometimes, don’t they?”
“Yes, but I don’t think you need to worry about that. You’ll get along all right, Bert. I have a hunch that Johnny’s going in for a fast backfield this year, and when it comes to speed you’ve got it all over some of the chaps. It was that lot of heavy, slow backs that spilled the beans for us last year, if you make inquiry of me. Things went a heap better in the last quarter, after some of those truck horses had quit!”
“I’d hate to go back to the Second,” mused Bert.