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“I saw Fanning at supper,” said Toby.

“We’ll run over to Dudley after awhile and look him up. You like him, don’t you, Toby?”

“Fanning? Yes, but I don’t really know him as well as some of the other fellows. He’s football captain this year, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Arnold nodded and then frowned. “Sometimes I wish we’d elected some one else: Ted, maybe, or Jim Rose.”

“Why? I thought you liked Fanning a lot. And he was the whole thing last year in the Broadwood game, wasn’t he?”

“I do like him. He’s a mighty fine chap. And he’s a whale of a player. Only, what sort of a captain will he make? He’s too easy, to my way of thinking. He’s likely to fall for a lot of fellows who can’t play much just because they’re friends of his. I don’t mean that he will intentionally show favoritism, but he’s too plaguy loyal to his friends, Toby. To tell the truth, I’m half inclined to stay out of it this fall—No, that isn’t so, either. What I do mean is that I’m scared that Fan may keep me on even if I don’t really make good. And I’d hate that worse than poison. I want to make the team, but I don’t want fellows to wink and laugh and look wise about me. You know the sort of stuff: ‘Oh, Deering, ye-es, he’s all right. But it’s lucky for him Fanning’s a friend of his!’ That sort of guff. Of course, this new coach, Lyle, may be a chap with a mind of his own and not stand for any of the friend-of-my-youth stuff. I hope so. I’d feel better anyway. By the way, you haven’t changed your mind, Toby?”