“Well,” said Bert slowly, “I’m not so sure that Johnny deserves that lecture. Being a football coach can’t be exactly a bed of roses, Chick, and it seems to me the least the School can do is refrain from butting in and making his job harder than it is. They say Johnny’s going to quit this fall, anyway, and you know blame well he isn’t going to pass up any chances to make his last season a successful one. He will bring off a win over Kenly if it’s humanly possible.” “And that’s just the point,” replied Chick, slapping the paper for emphasis. “He’s working for a win over Kenly and letting us get licked all along the line! That’s what Homer’s kicking about; and what we’re all kicking about. A Kenly victory is big stuff, and all that, and we sure want it, but, hang it, Bert, we don’t want to be licked by every two-bit school we take on. And high schools, too!” “You mustn’t speak so disrespectfully of high schools, Charles. There are plenty of them that could lick us to a standstill. Besides, you exaggerate. Only one high school has beaten us so far.” “Well, Southport isn’t much better,” grunted Chick. “And we play New Falmouth High day after to-morrow, and there’s no knowing what Johnny Cade has doped up for us!” “I guess we won’t have much trouble with her.” “We won’t if we’re allowed to trim her,” said Chick. “But if Johnny tries another of his funny tricks, like starting with the subs, there’s no telling. The first year I was here New Falmouth came mighty near beating us. I forget the score, but I think it was 7 to 6. We kicked a goal after touchdown and she didn’t.” “I wish Johnny would let me in Saturday,” sighed Bert. “Maybe he will. I wouldn’t be surprised if he left the first-string at home and just took the subs along!” “You seem to have it in for Johnny rather hard, Chick.” “Oh, well, he made me mad last week. Yanked me out just when I was learning how to handle that big Banning tackle. Johnny is all right when he doesn’t get foolish. As for his quitting this fall, I don’t believe there’s anything in that, Bert. Why would he? He gets a mighty good salary here and I don’t believe any other school is after him.” “As I understand it,” responded Bert, “he’s going to give up coaching. He has a law practice somewhere, I think, and he wants to get busy with it. I suppose football coaching doesn’t lead to anything. How much salary does he draw, Chick?” “Five, or so I’ve heard. I guess no one knows but he and the Faculty.” “Five thousand! Great Peter! Why, that’s real money!” “I’ll say so; for only three months in the year! Still, I guess it keeps a fellow from doing much of anything else. Take a law business. What good’s a lawyer if he isn’t around when you want him, eh? Of course, if a coach gets big money, like some of them, they don’t have to worry about any other business, I suppose. Some of the college coaches draw down ten thousand.”