“I’m not saying it’s going to be rotten,” answered Tommy placidly. “All I say is that it was rotten to-day. Look at the way Burton played, for instance. He had three chances with forward-passes and missed every one of them. Touched them all, too. Why, we’d have had a touchdown any time if he could have frozen onto just one of them!” “Chick was sort of out of tune,” acknowledged Pill. “He’s been that way ever since work started. Looks to me as if he was still sore about the captaincy.” “Think so?” Tommy looked interested. “Say, I’ll bet you’re _tres_ right! I thought he and Jonas Lowe weren’t acting awfully thick!” “Oh, they get on all right,” said Pill. “Still, I do think that Chick was awfully disappointed last winter. Maybe you can’t blame him, either. Why, I’d have bet my shirt that they’d make him captain, Tommy!” “Yes, so would I, I guess. The trouble with Chick Burton is that he’s a mighty pleasant guy, and most every one likes him a lot and all that. But when it comes to choosing a leader, why, Chick doesn’t--er--inspire confidence. That’s the way I get it, and I guess that’s the way the team felt last December. It was a surprise, though, when they elected Lowe. Guess Jonas was as surprised as any one, even Chick. Think he will make a good captain, Pill?” “Jonas?” Pill looked frankly dubious. “Gee, I don’t know, Tommy. He’s a corking old scout, and the fellows like him well enough; and he knows a lot about football; his own position and the other chap’s; but it doesn’t seem to me that he’s what you’d call a born leader.” “Huh, neither is Chick.” “Yes, he is, too! Chick’s the--the slap-bang, hit-or-miss sort that--” “Mostly miss to-day,” interpolated Tommy. “--that fellows take to. He may be wrong, but he makes you think he’s right. And he has--well, dash, you know; and a jolly way of banging into everything; sort of a ‘Come on, gang, let’s go!’ fashion that wins the crowd. What I think about Chick is that if he had made the captaincy he’d have been a poor leader, Tommy, but every one would have forgiven him and, if we’d lost to Kenly, would have said: ‘Well, it wasn’t Chick Burton’s fault! It was just rotten luck!’” “He’s sure got a pal in you,” said Tommy. “I didn’t know you two were so _amical_.” “Your French is rotten, as usual. We aren’t very friendly, either, for that matter. I mean, I don’t know him very well. Say, that’s a funny thing about Chick Burton. He gets on finely with every one, but you never see him chummy with a soul. Ever notice that?” “Oh, I don’t know. What about Hollins? He and Chick look to be pretty thick.” “Well, they room together, you know, and I heard they were pals before they came here. But outside of Bert Hollins he doesn’t take up with any fellow, so far as I see.” Tommy chuckled reminiscently. “You ought to have seen the pained look on Bert’s face this afternoon when I razzed Chick once for missing a throw! Say, that poor nut thinks Chick invented football, I guess.”