good deal of fun out of it, though." Loring chuckled. "I'm an absolute nut about plays. Making them up, I mean. I've got—" He broke off to address Wattles. "Get me that portfolio, will you, Wattles? The one with the football diagrams in it. That's it. Thanks. Have a look, Bingham. There's where a lot of my time has gone. If you laugh I'll throw the chessmen at you!"
The portfolio was slightly larger than the sheet after sheet of letter-size bond paper inside and was closed with three knotted tapes. Each sheet held a diagram, sometimes two, and accompanying text, and Clif, turning over one after another, marveled at the neatness of the penned figures and lines and letters. Loring had used two colors of India ink in each case, showing the attacking team in black circles and the defending side in red. Straight lines were straight and curved lines were firm and graceful. The letters and figures were remarkable, and for a moment Clif thought that Loring was hoaxing him, that he was looking at printed diagrams. "Tandem Outside Guard," he read. "Forward-Pass from Reverse Play (8)," "Forward-Pass from End Run Threat," "Delayed Pass from Kick Formation."
Clif looked across at Loring admiringly.
"Say, but these are corking! Do you think—I mean—"
"Will they go? Yes, I know they will. Of course a lot of them aren't new. I mean by that, Bingham, they were new to me when I doped them out, but of
