But Tom had caught sight of Joe Whitemill, of the First Team, and he plowed his way through to him.
"What's it all about, Whitemill?" he asked anxiously. "Is 'G. G.' really out of it?"
"Eh? Oh, hello, Kemble. Yes, that's the way we get it. He's down with influenza, and the doctor says he won't be able to do any more coaching this season. I don't know where the story came from, though. Every one has it, but no one knows where it started. For my part—"
"It's straight goods," interrupted Jimmy Ames, appearing at Tom's side. "Mr. Connover told Dave Lothrop and Dave spilled it a few minutes ago. Faculty's sent word to the Committee to get busy, and there's going to be a meeting in a few minutes."
"But, Great Heck!" exclaimed Tom. "What—what—why, that'll play the very dickens, won't it?"
Whitemill grinned, but the grin held no humor. "Oh, no, not at all! Swapping coaches ten days before the big game is a mere trifle, Kemble. It's easy when you—"
"There won't be any swapping," predicted Jimmy. "Where'd we get a new coach now? Anyway, he wouldn't know the team, and he'd be worse than none. 'Pinky' will take Otis's place, of course."
"That's so," said Tom. "Well—but, heck, fellows, it's going to make a difference! How does 'Pinky' know what Otis was going to do? Or does he know?"
"Search me," said Whitemill despondently. "I suppose they've talked things over a good deal, though.
