“Rot! They’ve got enough now!” Rob helped himself to another potato. “It doesn’t need new jerseys and sweaters to win from Adams; it needs football sense. And that’s something neither Hop nor Prentiss has got. Why, I’d be willing to wager anything I’ve got that Mountfort will make our team look like a set of cripples this afternoon.” “Mountfort? Nonsense!” jeered Peterson. “Why, Mountfort’s only a high school!” “All right; you wait and see. As you say, Mountfort’s only a high school and consequently we ought to beat her by two or three scores; isn’t that so?” “Well, two scores, maybe,” hedged Peterson. “After all, Langton, it’s pretty early yet and we haven’t got under way.” “It’s early for Mountfort, too, isn’t it? But we’ll say two scores, then, Peterson. Now I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If Riverport wins from Mountfort this afternoon by a margin of two scores――no, by Jove, by _one_ score!――neither Jelly nor I will eat any supper to-night!” “_What!_” shrieked Jelly in alarm. “You speak for yourself, Rob. I’m not coming in on any silly arrangement like that. I need my supper.” “Oh, be a sport, Jelly,” Evan laughed. “What do you care about supper if we win?” “We won’t win,” answered Jelly. “Pass the gravy, please.” “Then you’re safe, aren’t you? I mean your supper’s safe.” “I don’t believe in taking risks,” replied Jelly with a wise shake of his head. “Well, if Jelly throws me down,” said Rob smilingly, “I’ll go it alone.” “Never be it said that I deserted you in your hour of need, Rob,” Evan declared. “I will starve with you.” “Look here, though, you two,” said Pierce. “No crackers and jam and stuff in your room afterwards.” “We haven’t any,” laughed Evan. “The only thing we might eat is some of Rob’s nails and screws and such. No, this is straight, isn’t it, Rob?” “Absolutely! If Hop’s team wins from Mountfort this afternoon Evan and I go supperless.” “Well, I call that a sporting proposition,” said Peterson admiringly. “Much as I’d hate to have you go without supper, Rob, I must say I’d like our team to win.” “It hasn’t a show to win,” said Rob confidently. “Why, my dear, misguided friend, our team hasn’t shown a single flash of football yet.” “Well, we’ll see later,” responded Peterson, pushing back his chair. “That’s right, Jelly, eat all you can now, for you’re not likely to get anything more to-day.” “Me?” sputtered Jelly. “I tell you I’m not in that bargain! I refuse to have anything to do with it! I don’t have to, do I, Rob?” “No, you may eat as much as usual, Jelly, no matter what may be the fortunes of war. And just think, Jelly! If Evan and I do lose you’ll have two other suppers to eat!” “Say, may I have your preserves, Rob?” asked Jelly eagerly. “May I have yours, Evan?” “Yes,” Rob replied laughingly, “but I wouldn’t count on it, Jelly. I rather fancy we’ll need our suppers ourselves.”