“Really, sir? I never heard the word. That is, begging your pardon, Mister Loring, I never happened—”
“You wouldn’t,” agreed the boy. “I just invented it. I guess those fellows are frightfully hot, Wattles. There are some compensations for my enforced inactivity after all. Chasing around on a day like this would be a mite uncomfortable, eh?”
“Quite, sir. Perfectly grilling, sir. But are the young gentlemen obliged to exercise so violently?”
“Depends on one’s understanding of the word, Wattles. Of course they don’t actually have to play, but they want to, and when you try for the team you’ve got to do what you are told to. The man over there in the white shirt is the coach, and his business is to teach those chaps how to play good football, and he has less than two months to do it. I dare say he has a bunch of last year fellows to build around, but there’s next year to think of, too, and so he has not only to develop enough players to fill up this season’s team, but must supply himself with material to draw on next fall. That means that he has to hustle from the very start, Wattles, and explains why he has those chaps there puffing so hard.”
“Yes, sir. I’d no idea the game was quite so—so intensive.”
The boy chuckled. “Wattles, your vocabulary is getting richer every day, isn’t it?”
“Was it the wrong word, sir?” asked the man anxiously. “I understand—”
“Not at all. Quite proper, in fact. I dare say the English game’s a bit less vehement, isn’t it?”
“I couldn’t say that, Mister Loring. It’s played very hard, but I fancy the preparation is not quite so—so severe. I’ve seen only a few games since I left the other side, sir, and I may be wrong. I gather that the sort of football played here is quite different from the English game.”
“You’ve never seen our style of football, have you? Why, yes, I think you’ll notice a difference. I dare say they’ll be putting on a scrimmage in a day or two, and you’ll have a chance to compare the two games.”