guessed we'd better try to do without a coach this Fall. Just as if we could!"
"I suppose it would be hard," said Dick. "Gordon said that Lanny had heard of a man in Bridgeport."
"He didn't pan out," replied Fudge. "He was a man Bert Cable knew, but he hadn't ever coached a football team. Now Lanny's after a chap in Westport. He coached Torleston High a couple of years ago. It's a bum outlook, say what you want. Lanny's going to make a dandy captain, but he can't coach too. No one could. There's the First Team, and the Scrub Team and the Third Squad. Maybe if Lanny didn't do any playing himself he'd get by all right, but what's the good of a captain who doesn't play? Besides, he's too good a halfback to lose."
"It's too bad," observed Dick sympathetically as, having turned into Common Street, he now drew the runabout to the side of the road where a gate appeared in the high board fence surrounding the athletic field. "By the way, where are you going to play, Fudge?"
"Me?" Fudge grinned. "Oh, I'm out for a guard position, but I'll play anything they'll let me.
