And only until to-morrow evening to do them.” The Duke sighed and shook his head. “But such is life!” “Too bad,” murmured Harry sympathetically. “And the dickens of it is that this is no time to push a fellow’s nose to the grindstone. No fellow can do decent work just before the Broadwood game; it isn’t fair to expect it.” “I wish that silly game was over with,” said The Duke fervently. “Honest, I get so excited and nervous and stirred up about it you’d think I was going to play quarter-back. By the way, Duffey――he rooms with Bert Simms, you know――Duffey says Bert is all up in the air over the game; doesn’t sleep for calling signals all night, and can’t eat.” Harry looked incredulous. “Why, I saw Simms this morning and talked to him, and he seemed as untroubled as you please.” “That so? Well, it’s only what I heard. How is Burtis’s arm getting on? I haven’t seen him since Sunday.” “All right. They’re having a leather cuff made that’s to fit right over the wrist. I didn’t know a simple dislocation could be so bad.” “What’s the difference between a dislocation and a sprain?” demanded The Duke. Harry shook his head. “I don’t know. I suppose that when you sprain your ankle you just pull the tendons, don’t you, or the ligaments? And when you dislocate it you throw the bone out of joint.” “I’m glad we don’t have to take an exam in physiology right now,” said The Duke. “Yes, lucky for us,” laughed Harry. “They say the trouble with Kendall’s wrist is that he’s likely to dislocate it again very easily if he isn’t careful. Payson has let him off practice for the rest of the week, Gerald says.” “Good stuff! After the way he played Saturday they’d ought to let him do as he pleases. I certainly thought they had us beaten there for a while!” “Me, too. What do you think about Broadwood? Think we have any show, Duke?” “If Payson plays the right sort of game, yes. If he keeps those heavy beef-eaters eternally on the jump by hitting their ends we may tire them out enough to get within kicking distance. When we do we want to let Burtis do the rest, for we’ll never get a touchdown by straight line-plunging. Did you see the score they rolled up on Forest Hill?” Harry nodded. “Twenty-seven to six. Forest Hill scored, though.” “On a forward pass that ought never to have worked. They can say what they like about Broadwood being fast, and maybe they are fast for their weight, but they can’t be fast enough to stand a running game very long. Payson ought to send our backs around their ends, try forward passes and all his bundle of tricks, Merrow. Just plain, old-fashioned football won’t make a dent in that team!” “That’s what I think. And they say he’s got a lot of good plays outside tackles. But the trouble is that our own team isn’t so all-fired fast, Duke.” “It’s the slowest Yardley team I ever saw,” replied The Duke. “If Payson doesn’t get some jump and ginger into it between now and Saturday we’re goners.”