That and a few more “maybes” brought Jim to Number 15 and the sight of Clem studying at the table. He wished he could tell Clem about the momentous happening. But he couldn’t. And he mustn’t think about it any more now. There was Latin to be dug into. Very determinedly he seated himself opposite the absorbed Clem and drew his books toward him.
[CHAPTER XVIII]
THE REVERSE PASS
Mr. Cade answered Jim’s ring and led the way into the big, comfortable sitting-room, where, observing no appropriate accommodation for caps, Jim disposed of his own by putting it in his pocket. Then he took a chair close to the big round table that held a huge lamp, magazines and books and ash-trays and battered pipes and a strange but interesting litter of other things, and Mr. Cade dropped back into his leather arm-chair, took up the diagram and studied it for a moment in silence. During the moment Jim looked around him, felt the somewhat out-at-elbows hominess of the room and relaxed against the frayed cushions behind him.
“As I make out this reverse pass, Todd,” said the coach, “it’s a good scoring play under certain conditions—if it proves practical. Its weakness lies in the fact that three passes are involved. Every pass depends primarily for its success on two players, the man who throws and the man who receives. If either one fails the pass fails. This play consequently offers a bigger chance for failure than the play calling for two passes. On the other hand its principal feature, which is that of deception, seems to me to justify the added risk. Now, suppose you explain it to me, Todd.”
“Explain it?” faltered Jim.
“Yes, I’d like to get your version of it. It’s your idea, and I want to learn just what that idea is. What I make of this sketch may not be what you had in mind.”
“Well,” began Jim, leaning forward to refresh his memory from the diagram in the other’s hand, “it uses the regular back-field formation.”
“Yes, so I see, but what about the line? You can’t see this from there, can you? Suppose you bring your chair nearer.”