“I didn’t know you considered yourself an authority on football, Pennimore. I thought running was your specialty.” “It is, but I’ve played some football, and I’ve seen a heap of it, and if you want my opinion I’ll tell you plainly that you play the game about as well as a piece of cheese! I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Cotton, but there’s no sense in making charges of favoritism here. In this school a fellow wins on his merits, and when you’ve been here longer you’ll realize it.” “That’s your opinion,” growled Cotton. “You’ve always had everything you wanted, and you think you’ve earned it all. I’ll bet you that if you hadn’t known lots of the fellows who give out favors you’d be just where you were when you came.” Kendall, who had been listening with an anxious countenance, attempted the rôle of peacemaker. “Well, you’ve got another year yet, Cotton. I wouldn’t feel badly about it. After all――――” “Badly! Oh, I’m not breaking my heart,” replied Cotton, with a sneer. “It’s no great honor to win your place by a pull. Besides, that team will be beaten to a froth this year. Why, Broadwood will put it all over them! You wait and see!” “You’re one of the sort who doesn’t want to play on the losing side, are you?” asked Gerald disdainfully. “Then I guess the team’s well off without you, Cotton.” Cotton turned toward Gerald with an angry light in his pale eyes, but whatever the words were that sprang to his lips they never got past. His reply to the taunt was so gentle that both Gerald and Kendall stared in surprise. “I can take a licking as well as the next fellow,” said Cotton quietly. “But I do think it’s a shame to keep good players off the team and get beaten for it by Broadwood.” “The team’s no worse than last year’s,” replied Gerald, regaining his good nature, “and that was good enough to lick old Broadwood, my friend.” “Yes, by a goal from the field! Broadwood had you beaten before that.” “What’s the odds? A field goal is a field goal, and we won. And we’ll do it again this year.” “Bet you don’t!” “Bet we do! That is, I might bet if betting was allowed,” continued Gerald with a chuckle. “Well, what will you bet?” Cotton demanded eagerly. “Not allowed,” responded Gerald. “Betting is barred.” “You know you’d lose,” taunted the other. Gerald’s eyes snapped. “Wait a bit, Mr. Cotton! Seems to me you are pretty certain, considering that the game is a month away.” “I _am_ certain. Broadwood will make your team――――” “Why mine? Why not _ours_?” “Well, our team, then! Broadwood will make it look like――like a bunch of has-beens!” “May I ask on what you base your judgment?” asked Gerald. “On lots of things! On the players, and the coaching system――――” “You don’t approve of our coaching system?”