“Oh,” said Neil.  “Let’s see; what—­Here, explain it; where do I come in?”

“Why, your position is at the left of quarter, behind the center-guard, and a little farther back.  Full stands directly behind quarter.  See?”

“Pshaw! if we get into a crowd like that,” said Neil, “we’ll get all tied up.”

“No you won’t; not the way Mills and Devoe are teaching it.  You see, the idea is to knife the backs through; there isn’t any plunging to speak of and not much hurdling.  The forwards open up a hole, and almost before the ball’s well in play one of the backs is squirming through.  Quarter gives you the ball at a hand-pass, always; there’s no long passing done; except, of course, for a kick.  Being right up to the line when play begins it only takes you a fraction of a second to hit it; and then, if the hole’s there you’re through before the other side has opened their eyes.  Of course, it all depends on speed and the ability of the line-men to make holes.  You’ve got to be on your toes, and you’ve got to get off them like a streak of lightning.”

“Well, maybe it’s all right,” said Neil doubtfully, “but it looks like a mix-up.  Who gets the ball in this play here?”

“Right half.  Left half plunges through between left-guard and center to make a diversion.  Full-back goes through between left tackle and end ahead of right half, who carries the ball.  Quarter follows.  Of course the play can be made around end instead.  What do you think of it?”

“All right; but—­I think I’d ought to have the ball.”

“You would when the play went to the right,” laughed Sydney.  “The fact is, I—­this particular play hasn’t been used.  I sort of got it up myself.  I don’t know whether it would be any good.  I sometimes try my hand at inventing plays, just for fun, you know.”

“Really?” exclaimed Neil.  “Well, you are smart.  I could no more draw all those nice little cakes and pies and things than I could fly.  And it—­it looks plausible, I think.  But I’m no authority on this sort of thing.  Are you going to show it to Devoe?”

“Oh, no; I dare say it’s no use.  It may be as old as the hills; I suppose it is.  It’s hard to find anything new nowadays in football plays.”

“But you don’t know,” said Neil.  “Maybe it’s a good thing.  I’ll tell you, Syd, you let me have this, and I’ll show it to Mills.”

“Oh, I’d rather not,” protested Sydney, reddening.  “Of course it doesn’t amount to anything; I dare say he’s thought of it long ago.”

“But maybe he hasn’t,” Neil persuaded.  “Come, let me show it to him, like a good chap.”

“Well—­But couldn’t you let him think you did it?”

“No; I’d be up a tree if he asked me to explain it.  But don’t you be afraid of Mills; he’s a fine chap.  Come and see me to-morrow night, will you?”

Sydney agreed, and, arising, swung himself across the study to where his coat and cap lay.