- mensely, fellows, but, after all, my football's just what
you might call theory, and it seems rather cheeky for a chap who has never played a lick to—to set up as a critic!"
"No, it doesn't," answered Tom firmly. "Critics are always like that. The good ones, I mean. I don't have to be a baker to know when a pie is punk! You just watch us play, Loring, and see where we fall down. I'm not throwing off on 'Cocky.' He's a dandy coach. But he isn't on the outside looking in, and he's got a lot of stuff to think about all at once. Things might easily get by him—little things especially—just because he's right on top of the play. Then there's strategy, too. There's a whole lot in that, Loring, and you've sort of studied that end of it. So, if it wouldn't be too much of a bother, I wish you'd help us out, Loring."
"Of course I will! Why, it'll be a lot of fun for me, Tom. Almost like playing football myself!"
"Done! Here, you push awhile, you lazy beggar!"
"Lazy yourself," answered Clif as he took the other's place. "I should think, though, you'd be glad to keep the job, Tom. It isn't every day you get the chance to be chauffeur to the consulting coach!"
After they had consigned Loring to the care of a relieved Wattles and were returning to West, Clif said: "How did you happen to think of that scheme, Tom? I'll bet he can give us some mighty good tips, eh?"
"Oh, well; it can't do us any harm, I guess."
