"Well, I don't care so much now that I've got my sweater back," he said thoughtfully.
"Care about what?" asked Jack.
"Oh, the rest of it; being on bounds and—and not playing to-morrow," answered Roy. "You see, I'd just about made up my mind that I wasn't going to play, anyhow."
"Well, you're going to play," answered Chub cheerfully. "And I'm pleased purple. A few of those nice long hits of yours to-morrow will do a heap of good, Roy."
But Roy didn't seem to hear.
"No one knows about this but you and Jack and me?" he asked.
"That's all," replied Chub.
"And if we don't say anything about it, then, no one else will know."
"Don't say anything about it!" cried Chub. "Are you crazy?"
"No, but there's the boat race to think of, Chub; we don't want to lose that, I guess. And if they take Horace out—"