“Johnny,” said Pete, “has just been elected to Ornery Membership. It wouldn’t be a bad idea for some of you chaps to fill out your applications soon. You might be eligible in a day or two.” “And that’s no Mother Goose tale!” said Nip. “Every time Johnny looks my way I start to pull my head guard off and write out my resignation. Keep a place in the Pail for me, Hop!” “Say, what about it, Cap?” asked Pete. “Are we down-and-out, or is Johnny just having a joke with us?” “Guess he means it,” answered Jonas soberly. “You fellows want to hump yourselves.” “You watch me,” said Hop. “If Nat Wick gets my job for keeps that lad’s got to go some! Mind you, I’m not blaming Johnny, either. I’m free to confess that our side of the line’s been pretty punk, and Andy Dozier and I had it coming to us. Joe, too, I guess. As for Pete, every one knows how rotten he’s been!” “Is that so?” growled Pete. “I thought I was playing a pretty nice game,” went on Hop reflectively, “but I guess I wasn’t. Anyhow, something was sure loose on that side and maybe it was me. I’d hate like the deuce to think I was dumped for good, though.” “Pshaw,” said Coles, “Johnny means to have you back there, Hop. As Jonas says, get out and hump, son!” “Oh, I’m going to hump,” Hop assured him. “You won’t know me from a dromedary by Monday!” Bert got back to Number 21 well before ten o’clock and found an empty room. What time Chick returned Bert never knew, but it was certainly well after ten. Sunday’s paper corroborated the radio announcement of Kenly’s defeat, but since one of the opponent’s touchdowns had been due to an intercepted forward-pass in midfield and the other scored in the last minute or two of the game, when the Kenly Hall team had contained numerous substitutes, there was less encouragement to be derived from it. According to the correspondent’s account of the affair Kenly had played better football; although, as Chick pointed out when Bert drew his attention to the statement, the correspondent was naturally prejudiced.