"Maybe mother was right when she didn't want me to play this game."
The coach wasn't through. He gave the ball to George and signalled one of the biggest of the varsity men.
"Let me see you get past that fellow, Morton."
George didn't get past, although, with the tackler's vise-like grip about his legs, he struggled with knees and elbows, and kept his feet until the coach called to let him go.
"I'm sorry," George began.
"Yes," Green said, severely, "you've got to learn to get past tacklers. If you learn to do that consistently I'll guarantee you a place on the team, provided Mr. Stringham's willing."
"I'm willing," the head coach said with apparent reluctance.
Everyone within hearing laughed, but George couldn't laugh, although he knew it was expected.
"Mr. Stringham," he said, "I will learn to get past them unless they come too thick."
The coach patted his shoulder. His voice was satisfied.