"Indeed?" murmured Bi politely.
"Quite so," answered the coach dryly, "I suppose you know that your presence on the team is a sheer accident? If you don't, allow me to tell you candidly that if there had been anyone else in the college to put in Corson's place, we would never have called on you, Mr. Briggs."
He let that soak in a minute. Then:
"Have you ever heard of this man Jordan who will play opposite you to-day?" he asked.
"Yes, sir; a very good player, I understand."
"A good player! My dear fellow, he's the best guard on a college team in twenty years. And you are going to play opposite him. Understand that?"
"Er—certainly," answered Bi, getting a bit uneasy.
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Do? Why, I shall do the best I can, Mr. Hecker. I don't suppose I am any match for Jordan, but I shall try——"
"Stop that! Don't you dare talk to me of doing the best you can!" said the coach, shaking a finger under Bi's nose—"for all the world," as Bi told me afterwards, "as though he was trying to make me mad!" "'Best you can' be hanged! You've got to do better than you can, a hundred per cent better than you can, ever did, or ever will again! That's what you've got to do! You've got to fight from the first whistle to the last without a let-up! You've got to remember every instant that if you don't, we are going to be beaten! You've got to make Jordan look like a base imitation before the first half is over! That's what you've got to do, my boy!"