Going back to Upton after practice was over, Bert asked Chick whether Coach Cade had said anything about Saturday night. Chick laughed. “Not a word, old scout. Know what I think? Well, I think he was so taken up with getting that train that he forgot all about seeing me. Anyway, he didn’t say a word to-day. Didn’t even look cross-eyed at me!” “That’s luck,” said Bert. “Take my advice, Chick, and don’t get caught again.” “Not going to, believe me. Another time I’ll come home by River street, even if it is longer. It’s a safe bet Johnny doesn’t wander around over there!” “Maybe not, but the safest thing is to be in the dormitory by nine-thirty, and that’s your play from now on. You can’t be quite certain about Johnny. Maybe he’s forgotten about meeting you the other night and maybe he hasn’t. I wouldn’t want to bet either way, Chick.” “Oh, well, he’s got too many other things to worry about, I guess. Say, he had an awful cheek to work A Squad the way he did to-day. Regular beginners’ stuff! Gosh, I’ve got more dirt in my hair than I’ll be able to get out in a dozen shampoos. Funny thing was, though,” added Chick as they started upstairs, “that we tackled the dummy like a lot of pups!” “The tackling in the Southport game was pretty rotten,” said Bert. “I don’t believe there were more than two clean tackles made by our gang, Chick.” “And I made them both?” laughed Chick. “Thanks!” “You did not! You were as bad as any of them. Pete Ness made one corking tackle the time he got that Southport guy over by the side-line, and I think it was Billy Haines made the other. Generally we just sort of tagged the other fellow on the shoulder and let him by!” “Well, you’ve got to be polite to your guests,” replied Chick, grinning. “I did miss my tackles pretty awfully, though, and I know it as well as you do, old scout. Fact is, Bert, I haven’t been playing my real game yet. I guess it takes a fellow a week or so to get back into harness, eh? Oh, by the way, I told Coles we’d be around to see him this evening. He’s got some apples his folks sent him from New Hampshire or somewhere and he wants them eaten up before they go bad. He says the training table starts Wednesday evening, Bert.” “I wonder if I’ll get on it.” “Sure! Why not? At that, though, you’ll be lucky if you don’t. You get beastly tired of the grub after about a month of it.” “I saw Mr. McFadden at the field to-day,” said Bert. “I guess they’ll be starting the Scrub Team pretty soon.” “Next week, probably. Good thing, too, for the place is all littered up over there now.” “I hope it doesn’t occur to Johnny to put me back where he got me,” Bert observed ruefully. “I dare say fellows do get dropped to the Second sometimes, don’t they?”