Homer laughed lightly. “That’s not a bad idea. But I was curious to know how the players themselves felt about it, you see. We try, in the Doubleay, to reflect School opinion, Chick, and of course you fellows on the team have a far better notion of how things are going than the rest of us. We don’t mean to quote any one’s opinions personally, you understand. What we’re after is to find out how the players themselves size up the present situation, what their reaction is to this sudden and apparently high-handed displacing of so many veteran members of the Team. There’s no question but what the coach is doing what he considers best, Chick, but _is_ it best? Doesn’t a thing like this play hob with the Team’s _esprit de corps_? Isn’t it disorganizing? You see what I mean?” Chick viewed him balefully. “Sure, I see what you mean. You want me to grouch and throw Johnny down. Nothing doing, Homer. You go see Johnny himself and ask him if he’s cuckoo. I don’t know.” “Well, you’re not very helpful,” laughed Homer. “What do you say, Hollins?” “I say it’s poor policy for the Flubdub to criticize the coach in the middle of the season,” answered Bert. “Mr. Cade’s done mighty well since he’s been here, hasn’t he? What’s the idea in jumping to the conclusion that he’s going to make a mess of it this year?” “No one suggests that he’s making a mess of it,” Homer protested. “And as for criticism, why, if it’s helpful Coach Cade is the last one to resent it. A football coach is only human, Hollins, and he’s liable to make mistakes of judgment. In that case he ought to be glad to find it out in time to make--er--correction. Gosh, the Doubleay isn’t trying to ride John Cade, Hollins. All we’re trying to do is deal truthfully with affairs of the School and--and present, when we can, wise counsel. Now--” “Applesauce,” moaned Chick. “Oh, all right!” Homer arose and prepared for departure. “I don’t see why you’re so blamed grouchy, Chick. If you had to get out this confounded paper each week you’d be a bit more--more sympathetic. But if you don’t want to talk, don’t.” “Don’t,” muttered Chick. Homer retreated in good form, and after the door had closed Chick said: “Got a lot, didn’t he?” “I’m glad you didn’t bite,” answered Bert. “After all, whether Johnny is right or wrong, trying to make a sensation of it in the Flubdub isn’t going to help. And naturally a chap who was dropped from the line-up Saturday isn’t going to talk about it!” “Huh! I could have given him an earful if I’d wanted to,” muttered Chick. “I’ve got an opinion, all right!” “Well, I’m glad you didn’t spill it to Johnson.” “Yeah, he gives me a pain,” said Chick sadly. CHAPTER XIII AROUND THE END