"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 im-
