“Football. I mean, could he--could he come back?” “Oh! I don’t know, Brand. I guess it would depend on the fellow. Aren’t thinking of giving up the game, are you?” “No. Look here, Joe, suppose a fellow was a corking good full-back three years ago and then didn’t play any more. Suppose he was to go back to the game tomorrow. How long would it take him to--to remember what he’d forgotten and--and find himself again?” “Brand, it’s too early in the day for hypothetical questions,” replied Joe, stretching and yawning. “It would depend on so many things, boy: on how well the chap had kept himself in condition, principally. Got any fellow in mind, or are you just doing this for exercise?” “I’ve got someone in mind,” answered Willard earnestly. “There’s a chap here who used to play football three years ago, and from what he says he must have been pretty good. Anyway, he was regular full-back on the team. Then he was taken sick and had to quit, and he never went back.” “Who’s that?” demanded Joe, sitting up. “McNatt,” answered Willard. “McNatt! Oh, I thought you’d discovered someone, Brand. I guess McNatt’s a joke.” “He did play, though, didn’t he?” Willard persisted. Joe nodded. “Yes, he did, and that’s a fact.” He paused and kicked thoughtfully at the paper on the floor. “He played all one year, I think, either on the second or on the first as substitute. The first year I was here he played for awhile. That was his second year. Seems to me he stopped about the middle of the season. I don’t remember much about him, though. But, great gosh, the fellow’s no football man! Just--just look at him!” “He’s out of training, of course,” agreed Willard, “but seems to me if he was good enough to be regular full-back three years ago he might be worth trying now.” “That’s so, Brand! Look here, you tell him to come on out and we’ll give him a fair show, as late as it is. It would be worth a dollar of any fellow’s money to see McNutt playing football!” Willard shook his head. “I’m not sure he’d do it, Joe.” “Why not? What’s the idea?” “Well, I don’t believe he cares for it any more. He’s a funny duck, McNatt. I guess it would take a lot of persuasion to get him back.” “But I thought from what you said that he wanted to try it,” said Joe, puzzled. “What _does_ he want?” “To be let alone, I think,” answered Willard, smiling. “No, the idea was mine, Joe. McNatt hasn’t any more ambition to play football than I have to--to collect mushrooms! But when he told me about having played full-back I remembered that we are hard up for a fellow for that position, and so I came over here to speak to you about it.” “Well, dog my cats,” exploded Joe, “if the fellow can play football it’s his duty to do it! Doesn’t he know that? Where is he? I’ll have a talk with him. I don’t suppose he’s worth bothering with, but there’s always a chance! And we can’t afford to miss it!” “What are you going to say to him?” asked Willard.