“Tackle? He’s the fellow plays next to the end, ain’t he? Well, I don’t see what he’d want me back again for, after the way he laid me out last year.” Jim chuckled. “Gosh, he ’most tore the hide off me, Clem!” “Well, if you ask me, it was sort of cheeky, throwing him down in the middle of the season, Jim, and I can’t say I blame him for getting a bit waxy about it. However, he’s all over that. He isn’t holding anything against you; I’ll swear to that; and if you go out you’ll get treated right. Johnny and Woodie both believe in you as a football player, Jim.” “If they do,” laughed Jim in a puzzled way, “they’ve got more faith than I have. Why, honest, Clem, I don’t know much about the game, even after what they showed me last fall, and I can’t say that I’m keen about it, either. I always thought playing games was supposed to be fun, but I call football mighty hard work!” “What of it? Aren’t afraid of hard work, are you? You know, Jim, a fellow has a certain amount of--of responsibility toward his school. I mean it’s his duty to do what he can for it, don’t you see? Now, if you can play football--” “But I can’t, Clem.” “You don’t know. Johnny Cade says you can. Johnny’s a football authority and ought to know.” Jim was silent a moment. Then he asked, almost plaintively: “You want I should play, don’t you?” “Why, no, Jim. That is--well, I want you to do what you want to do. Of course, if you think--” “Yes, but you think I ought to,” Jim persisted. “That’s so, ain’t it?” “I think,” responded Clem judicially, “that as long as Johnny Cade wants you, and as long as you have no good reason for not playing, you ought to try. I don’t want to influence you--” Clem became aware of Jim’s broad grin and ran down. Then: “What you laughing at, confound you?” he asked. “Wasn’t laughing,” chuckled Jim. “Just smiling at the way you don’t want to influence me.” “Well, suppose I do?” asked Clem, smiling too. “It’s for the good of the football team, Jim. And, if you must have the whole truth, I promised Woodie I’d talk to you. And I have. And now it’s up to you. You do just as you please. Guess you know best, anyway.” “Well, maybe I haven’t got any good reason for not playing this year, or trying to,” mused Jim, enveloping himself in an enormous nightshirt. “I don’t think I’ll ever make a good football player, but if those folks want I should try, and you want I should--” “Hang it, Jim, don’t drag me into it! I’d feel to blame every time you got a bloody nose!” “--I don’t mind doing it,” concluded Jim. “Last year it didn’t seem like I was really needed out there. Maybe this year it will be different. Maybe Mr. Cade can make me into a tackle. If he can he’s welcome. Maybe after I’ve been at it a while I’ll get to like it. Maybe--” “Maybe you’ll put out that light and go to bed,” said Clem. “Of course you’ll like it. You’ll be crazy about it after a week or two, or a month or two, or--”