“Well, anyway, you’d have another second or so to think about them,” chuckled Dick. “Why don’t you tell the coach you’d like to try playing guard? You are a bit short, but you’ve got weight and you look husky. How old are you? Sixteen?” “Seventeen. I don’t look it, do I? Say, I suppose you wouldn’t want to speak to Mr. Driscoll, would you?” “Me? It wouldn’t do any good, my speaking to him, Davis. I’m just one of the dubs like the rest of you.” Davis appeared to doubt that. “I thought--Well, you won’t be long. Anyone can see that you know the game. Maybe I’d better ask Bob Peters, though. I’m sort of scared of Mr. Driscoll.” “All right, Davis, go to it. Neither of them will bite you, I guess. Were you here last year?” Davis nodded. “And the year before. I’m in the Third.” “Oh, are you? Well, how does Mr. Driscoll stand with the fellows?” “Stand with them? Oh, ace-high, Bates,” answered the other earnestly. “He’s a corker! Don’t you like him?” “I don’t know him, but it seems to me he’s sort of old for the job. And he doesn’t seem to----” Dick stopped. “Oh, I don’t know, but he acts a bit stand-offish, and football seems so much of a _business_ here! I guess I can’t explain just what I mean.” Evidently he hadn’t, for Davis looked blank. “He isn’t though,” he affirmed. “Stand-offish I mean. I like him immensely. Most everyone does. And he can turn out good teams, Bates.” “Well, that’s the main thing. I wonder if we have punting practice after the scrimmage. Who is the skinny chap that was in charge of the punters Friday?” “Gaines. He’s playing on the further squad there. See him? At right half: the fellow with the new head-gear. He’s pretty good, too. He played right half last year. I’m no use at punting. Guess my leg’s too short.” “That can’t be my trouble,” laughed Dick. “Oh, you! I thought you were mighty good at it,” said Davis approvingly. “I wish I could do half as well as you did.” “Well, I can get distance sometimes,” acknowledged Dick, “but I’m just as likely to kick to one corner of the field as the other! Direction is the hard thing.” “I suppose so, only it’s all hard for me.” After a moment of silence he said: “Do you know, Bates, half my trouble today was that I was scared. I was afraid you’d jump me the way you did Sandy Halden the other day.” “You weren’t on the squad that day,” answered Dick, puzzled. “I was trailing behind. When you let Sandy go I wanted to take his place, but I was pretty sure I’d do even worse! You ought to have heard Harry Warden chuckle when you slammed Sandy.” “Did he? Well, I had a lot of cheek to do that, because I wasn’t supposed to change the line-up. But Halden was too much for me. Has he played before this year?”