Bert looked puzzled, and for a moment seemed half inclined to resent being dictated to. But he evidently thought better of it, for after a moment he laughed, looked regretfully at his diagrams, and bent over the book with a sigh.
“All right,” he said. “But I won’t go along unless I’ve got this plaguey stuff by the time Harry comes.”
“Oh, you’ll have it by then,” answered Hansel, as he found his own books and seated himself at the opposite side of the table. “A fellow can learn a lot when he’s in the mood for it.”
“Humph!” muttered Bert.
At a quarter past eight Harry beat on the door, Hansel shouted “Come in!” and Bert looked up surprisedly from his labor.
“Hello, Harry,” he said. “You’re just in time. Tell me what this beastly Latin means, will you?”
“When we get back,” answered Harry. “You’re coming with us to Johnny Sanger’s, aren’t you?”
Bert stretched his arms above his head and looked undecided.
“I don’t know,” he said. Then his eyes fell on the diagrams beside him. “Say, I started on those plays before supper and one’s about done. Look here, Harry. How’s this for a ripping fake? Close formation; see? Ball goes to left half and quarter——”
“Great!” said Harry. “You can tell me about it when we get back. Find his cap, Hansel. He’s in a hurry.”