“Gosh!” breathed Bert. “Guess I’ll be a football coach when I get through eddicatin’ myself.” “You’ll have to learn to play first,” chuckled the other. “I suppose so, but I don’t see how I’m to do that if Johnny doesn’t use me once in a while. I’m not so certain that I wouldn’t rather be on the Scrub, Chick. You do get to play there, even if it’s only against you dubs!” “You’ll get your chance all right,” Chick answered. “Next year will be your big year, old scout. Just hold your horses and do the best you know how. You oughtn’t to kick, anyhow, Bert. You’ve made the Team and won your letter already, and that’s more than some fellows do before their senior year.” “I know, but what’s it get me? I’ll trade that old letter any time for a half-hour in a real game! I’m getting sort of tired of adorning that unsympathetic bench and only getting into a scrimmage when every one else has been used up.” “‘He also serves,’ quoted Chick, ‘who only--’” “Serve be blowed,” interrupted Bert shortly. “I want to play football! Sitting and waiting isn’t so good. I’d like a little fun and a little glory, Chick.” “You’d have had it if I’d been elected,” said Chick. “Whether I deserved it or not, eh?” laughed the other. “That’s all right,” answered Chick, with dignity. “I’d have looked after you. Where’s my French Comp?” “You’ve got your elbow on it, unless my eyes deceive me. Speaking of that obnoxious language, Chick, have you heard the new one Tommy Parish got off the other day?” “What’s that little fat shrimp kicking about now?” asked Chick, opening his book under the light. “Oh, this was just some of his French that he’s always springing. He was over at practice; Monday, I guess; and when Pete Ness made that nice run Tommy gets up and yells ‘_Garcon, allez vous en!_’” “_Allez vous_-- What did he mean?” “Well,” laughed Bert, “‘Attaboy’ was the way he translated it!” “He’s a blamed fool,” growled Chick. “They ought to keep him away from practice. He’s always making a nuisance of himself with his smart-aleck stuff. Next time he razzes me I’ll climb into the stand and cuff his ears!” “Oh, he’s harmless,” said Bert. “Trying sometimes, I’ll admit, but a distinct addition to the joy of nations. Shut up and let me work out this plaguy problem. “‘I like readin’ an’ jographee, Writin’, too, but, hully gee, Stuff they calls arithmatic ’S enough to make a feller sick!’” “Wish you had this French to do,” moaned the other.