But his joy was somewhat dampened by the fact that Neil had failed to make the team.
"It doesn't seem just right for me to go into the game, chum, with you on the side-line," he said.

"I don't see what Mills is thinking of! Who in thunder's to kick for us ?" "I guess you'll be called on, Paul, if any field-goals are needed." "I suppose so, but--hang it, Neil, I wish you were going to play!" "Well, so do I," answered Neil calmly; "but I'm not, and so that settles it.

After all, they couldn't do anything else, Paul, but let me out.
I've been playing perfectly rotten lately." "But--but what's the matter?
You don't look stale, chum." "I feel stale, just the same," answered Neil far from untruthfully.
"But maybe you'll get in for a while; you're down with the subs," said Paul hopefully.
"Maybe I will.

Maybe you'll get killed and Gillam'll get killed and a few more'll get killed and they'll take me on.

But don't you worry about me; I'm all right." Paul looked at him as though rather puzzled.
"By Jove, I don't believe you care very much whether you play or don't," he said at last.