“What did they do to you, Hugh?” he asked as he tore a sheet from the pad and crumpled it in his hand. “Were they brutal?”
“Hardly! They scored once, but they wouldn’t have pulled that if we hadn’t been asleep. Derry took a pass about a foot from the side line and ran thirty yards.”
Bert laughed. “What were you fellows doing to let him get off like that? You must have been asleep!”
“I fancy we were,” acknowledged Hugh ruefully as he seated himself in the Morris chair and stretched tired legs across the rug. “I was awfully glad it wasn’t on my side.”
“I’ll bet you were! Who played halves for them?”
“Kinds was one. The other fellow I don’t know. Small and dark and awfully quick and squirmy.”
“Fearing. He’s going to make a bully half some day. He’s only a lower middler.” There was a pause and then: “Say, Hugh,” Bert went on carelessly, “you don’t happen to have any money you don’t want to use for a while, I suppose?”
“Money? How much?”
“Oh, a beast of a lot; thirty dollars. Twenty would do, I guess. It would do for a while, anyway.” Bert was much too casual to deceive the other and Hugh looked regretful.
“No, I haven’t more than six or seven, Bert. How soon would you have to have it?”