“I never said he was,” answered Tommy, pushing back his chair and rising superbly for one of his build. “I said he was going to be. Now don’t chew the rag about it, pie-face, for it’s something you know nothing of. Just remember what I’ve told you and wait for developments. _Bon soir, vous pauvre noix!_” CHAPTER VI MOONEY’S If the result of the Banning game disappointed the spectators it quite as certainly disgruntled most of the players, the first-string fellows particularly. “Why in heck,” was the oft repeated query, “didn’t he keep us in and let us score on those dubs? Why, we were just getting to know them!” The explanation that Coach Cade had desired to provide experience for the substitutes, at the cost of an unimportant contest, was accepted but failed to satisfy. To be beaten by Banning High School was viewed rather like a slap in the face! None of the regulars was any sorer than Chick Burton that evening, and on the way across the campus after supper he did a good deal of grousing, with Bert as a more or less sympathetic audience. Bert appreciated Chick’s view-point, but he considered that Mr. Cade had taken an allowable risk, and he tried to point that out to his companion. But Chick refused to see it. “Johnny’s here to help us win games,” he asserted stoutly, “and not to make us look like a bunch of dubs. If he wants to give the subs experience let him do it in practice. We’ll give ’em enough experience! If we can’t, all he’s got to do is run ’em up against the Second. It’s all right to save your good men when there’s an important game coming, but we play New Falmouth next week and there’s six days between, and New Falmouth isn’t anything to get worried about, anyway. Why, any one of us regulars could have played four periods to-day and never turned a hair! I was just getting good when he yanked me out. Hang it, after the way those beggars ran us around in the first half, we all wanted a chance to sock it to ’em. Lum Patten was as mad as a hyena about it. I thought sure Johnny would hear him kicking. Rather wish he had, too. Say, I’ll bet the Flubdub will have something to say next week!” The Flubdub was the popular name for the school weekly. Its official title was The Doubleay, but no one called it that. “Well,” remarked Bert, “you had more luck than I had, Chick, even if you didn’t play the game through. I just sat on the bench and watched you fellows get trampled on.” “Trampled on nothing!” said Chick indignantly. “You didn’t see me get trampled on. Nor the others, either. Suppose Banning did hold us for two periods. We were due for a come-back in the last half, and a hard one, too! Where do you get that trampled-on stuff?” “I take it back,” laughed Bert. “Just the same, Chick, Banning out-played you, and you know it.”