“There won’t be any next time,” answered Clif emphatically. “Not with me,” chuckled Loring. “Wattles will never give me another chance to congest traffic. The poor chap had nightmares so badly that night that I had to wake him up twice!” “It’s a wonder he let you go without him to-day,” marveled Clif. “I was surprised myself,” agreed Loring. “I more than half expected to find him tagging along behind, keeping a watchful eye on me. You don’t happen to see a black derby sticking up behind a bush anywhere, do you?” Going back, Tom, trundling the chair, broke a silence of several minutes with: “Look here, Loring, I wish you’d do something for me. I mean for us, for the Scrub Team.” “I will if I can. What is it?” “Well, you’ve been looking on at practice and scrimmage almost every day, and you know a lot about football and how it ought to be played, and I’ve been thinking that a fellow on the side-line sees a good deal that gets by those on the field.” “Well――” “Now what I’d like you to do is this. You watch how things go; watch the fellows play; size up the whole performance, you know, and then you tell me afterwards what’s wrong. Of course the Scrub’s just the Scrub, but I’m captain of it and I’d like to see the old outfit make a good showing. You’ve got some pretty good ideas about the game, Loring, and I guess if you sort of kept an eye on us and then we had a talk afterwards, why――” “That’s the most sensible remark you ever got off,” said Clif. “I call that a corking good idea!” “I’ll be glad to try,” said Loring. “I’d like to immensely, fellows, but, after all, my football’s just what you might call theory, and it seems rather cheeky for a chap who has never played a lick to――to set up as a critic!” “No, it doesn’t,” answered Tom firmly. “Critics are always like that. The good ones, I mean. I don’t have to be a baker to know when a pie is punk! You just watch us play, Loring, and see where we fall down. I’m not throwing off on ‘Cocky.’ He’s a dandy coach. But he isn’t on the outside looking in, and he’s got a lot of stuff to think about all at once. Things might easily get by him――little things especially――just because he’s right on top of the play. Then there’s strategy, too. There’s a whole lot in that, Loring, and you’ve sort of studied that end of it. So, if it wouldn’t be too much of a bother, I wish you’d help us out, Loring.” “Of course I will! Why, it’ll be a lot of fun for me, Tom. Almost like playing football myself!” “Done! Here, you push awhile, you lazy beggar!” “Lazy yourself,” answered Clif as he took the other’s place. “I should think, though, you’d be glad to keep the job, Tom. It isn’t every day you get the chance to be chauffeur to the consulting coach!” After they had consigned Loring to the care of a relieved Wattles and were returning to West, Clif said: “How did you happen to think of that scheme, Tom? I’ll bet he can give us some mighty good tips, eh?” “Oh, well; it can’t do us any harm, I guess.”