"Try me," said Gordon. "I've never played end. But, say, you've got all kinds of good ends, Dick! Bryan was a wonder to-day, and then there's Felker and Toll and Grover. Still, I'd like to try. I'm a pretty rotten halfback, that's certain!"
"All right. I'll try you to-morrow. We must be late. Look at the mob at the door!"
"There's Fudge and Harry. I'll ask them to get our tickets." And Gordon, whose turn it was to treat, slipped his two dimes into Fudge's hand just as that youth reached the window where sat the resplendent ticket seller.
"Hello, Gordon! Two? Sure! Four of your best tickets, please!" The latter remark was addressed to the ticket seller and elicited only a haughty stare and four little blue tickets torn from a seemingly endless strip. But Fudge chuckled at his own joke, quite unaffected by the man's hauteur, and the four boys crowded through the door and sought seats together in the darkened house.
The Auditorium prided itself on being very high-class and Fudge was soon grumbling about the sort of photo-plays being presented. "Gee," he confided to Dick, "these pictures make me tired! They never have anything exciting any more. Say, know
