"I'm a big player, can't say that I'm great. Some fellows might think so, but it depends on whether they've seen much or know much, I fancy."
"That's right. You're as modest as Mary's little lamb. I hear you're a great sprinter," he added, turning abruptly to Will Phelps.
"Oh, I can run a little. If you'll give me the chance now I'll show you how I can leave the sophs behind," said Will with a laugh, for he was now feeling somewhat the effects of Hawley's manner of meeting his tormentors, and as he glanced down at Peter John it required no deep insight to perceive which was the better way.
The boys in the room laughed good-naturedly and one of them said, "That's enough, Mott. They don't need any more.""Hold on, I'm not done yet," replied Mott. "Tell me what's the name of the little school from which you came," he demanded of Will.
"The Sterling High School."
"And you ran there?"
"A little."
"Get any medals?"
"A few."
"Nice ones! Got any here?"