"Yes, they certainly went better in the second show."
"And after Duval went in at quarter for Jackson?"
"By Jove, that's so! But what—how—"
"Tom, if the other fellow tells you a second beforehand when the ball's going into play isn't that a bit of a help to you? Doesn't it allow you to beat the ball a bit?"
"You mean that Sim gave the play away? I mean—"
"Yes. Remember that First was penalized twice for off-side? Well, it ought to have been penalized half a dozen more times. It would have been if I'd been refereeing. Those fellows watched Jackson and started before the ball every time you had it. By the time the runner got the ball there was no chance for him. Two or three times—"
"But, great Scott, what did Jackson do? I didn't see anything wrong, Loring."
"You were too close, Tom. I wish I had the use of my legs so I could show you. Clif, you be Jackson for a minute, like a good chap. All right. Give your signals—wait, you're turning this way now, bending down. That's it. 'Signals!' Now then, you turn toward the center. You've had your left hand, or your right, maybe, on the center's back while you've been giving the signal, but now you drop it and hold your hands for the ball. Act it out that way, please."
"I'll try," laughed Clif. "Signals! Twenty-three, forty-three, seventeen! Twenty-three, forty-three—"
