“Well, he used to brag a good deal about baseball,” answered Andy.
“He says that he has gotten all over the trouble that he had with his arm and that this season he’s going to pitch again,” went on Spouter’s cousin.
A little later the Rovers found themselves returning to Colby Hall on foot. It was rather a misty day, and before they had covered half of the distance to the school it had begun to rain. The sky grew exceedingly dark.
“I don’t like this much!” exclaimed Fred. “Not an umbrella nor a raincoat in the bunch, either!”
“I don’t want to get this uniform wet,” put in Randy. “It’s the best I’ve got.”
“Mine is getting awfully tight,” commented Fred. “If it begins to shrink I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Colonel Colby’s uniforms don’t shrink,” put in Jack. “Your uniform is tight because you’re getting too fat, Fred.”
“Oh, let up on my getting fat,” pleaded the youngest Rover. “I’m not half as fat as Fatty Hendry.”
“And you don’t want to be!” exclaimed Randy. “Gosh! Fatty’ll never have to work for a living. All he’ll need to do is to sit on a platform in a side show and look pleasant and sell his photographs for twenty-five cents a copy.”
The downpour now became so heavy that the lads were forced to seek shelter in an old barn standing by the side of the road. So far there had been no thunder or lightning, but now they heard a distant rumble, and presently the sky to the westward was brilliantly illuminated.