“Not necessarily. Last month there were more than eighty fellows on the squad, old son. Mean to tell me that they were all on the team?” “Different now,” growled Babe. “Only twenty-six. The kid’s right, Gus. Shut up.” “Maybe,” went on Joe uncomfortably, “when I’d write home about the games I’d sort of let them think I――I had more to do with them than I had.” “Maybe,” said I, “seeing that you’ve only played in one, and then for about ten minutes!” “Two,” said Joe, indignantly. “And I played all through one quarter in the Glenwood game!” “Well, I guess it’s up to you to climb down, son, and tell your folks you ain’t the glaring wonder they think you are.” “I suppose so,” agreed Joe, but he didn’t sound like he meant it. “I thought of getting sick, so I could go to the infirmary, but I guess it’s too late to develop anything now. If I’d got this letter yesterday――――” “Don’t be an ass,” advised Babe gruffly. “Spunk up and tell ’em the truth. No disgrace. Lots of fellows can’t play football. Look at Gus.” “Huh, you big elephant,” said I, “if I couldn’t play the old game better than you ever dreamed of playing it――――” “Gee, I hate to ’fess up,” groaned Joe. “I’ll look such an ass, Babe!” Babe looked across suspiciously, and grunted. “Any one coming with your folks, kid?” he asked. Joe nodded and reddened. “They’re bringing along a girl I know.” “Huh! So that’s it, eh? Thought you weren’t telling the whole of it. The girl thinks you’re a bloomin’ hero, of course. You’ve been filling her up with yarns about how you were the whole team, and how you won last year’s game with Munson alone and unassisted, and――” “Oh, shut up,” begged Joe. “I never did! But you know what girls are, Babe. Have a heart!” Babe looked flattered, and positively simpered, the big goof! You couldn’t get him within half a block of a girl if you tried! He scowled and pretended he didn’t know what I was laughing about, and said: “Well, you might bandage a leg or an arm, Joe, and make believe you’d busted it.” But Joe shook his head. “They’d ask about it and I’d have to lie,” he said virtuously. “I thought of that, too. I’ve thought of about everything, I guess, and nothing’s any good――except――――” He stopped and sort of choked. “’Cept what?” asked Babe. “Well――” Joe hesitated, gulped and blurted it out finally. “I was thinking that maybe, seeing that no one cares much whether we beat Mills or not, I was thinking that maybe if you fellows spoke to Rusty he might let me play for a while!” “You have some swell thinks,” said I. Babe didn’t say anything for a moment. Just sat there hunched up in his chair like a heathen idol. Finally he said, sort of thoughtful: “Rusty won’t be here Saturday.” “You could speak to him to-morrow,” said Joe eagerly.