“That so? Played much? What school?”
“I haven’t played much, no,” answered Clif, “but I mean to. I played on our Second Team last fall, but just as a sub. I was too light. I’ve put on eight or ten pounds since then, though.”
“Back?”
“End.”
“Half back’s mine. Still, I’d play—play center if they’d let me! Best you and I’ll make, though, is a class team or a hall team, or whatever they have here. Well, if the old high school gets licked this year it’ll be Wyatt’s fault.”
Clif laughed, and then, remembering that here was an enemy, he froze up quickly. “I guess it would worry him to know that,” he remarked with immense sarcasm. “Look here, Kemble, how about to-morrow?”
“To-morrow?” Kemble looked blank.
“Yes, to-morrow,” answered Clif sternly. “You needn’t pretend you’ve forgotten.”
“Oh, that! I really had forgotten, though; give you my word, Bingham. Why, any time you say. That is, if you really want to go on with it.”