“Oh, shut up! Answer your own fool questions!”
“Behave, Hank!” admonished Coles. “Put the question, Tommy.”
“You’re captain of your team, Howard, and the other side has the ball between your fifteen and sixteen yards. One of your side is caught holding and the umpire penalizes you fifteen yards. What would you do?”
“What down was it?” asked Hank, mazed. “I mean, who had the ball?”
“The opponent, on your fifteen and a half. One of your gang is caught holding in the line and the ump socks you the penalty and puts the ball forward fifteen yards from where it was put in play. You’re captain of your team. Get it?”
“Sure, but what can I do? The ball still belongs to the other fellow, doesn’t it?”
Several of the listeners were exchanging puzzled glances, while Hank’s forehead was a network of wrinkles. Of the dozen there only Tommy and Bert appeared serene, Tommy owlishly regarding his victim, Bert leaning back against the window-sill wearing a faintly amused expression. “That your answer?” inquired Tommy.
“Gosh, I don’t understand what you’re getting at,” fumed Hank. “If my side had the ball, all right, but you say it hasn’t. What would you expect me to do, anyhow? Sass the umpire?”
“Look here, Tommy,” broke in Jim Galvin, “I don’t get that any more than Hank does. What’s the answer?”