“I know that!” flashed Reed, in a revelation of pent-up feeling. “But you Northerners think you’re so darn good in everything ... I’d like to show you what I can do at your own sport!”
“Go to it!” Coach Turner invited, good-naturedly. “I’ll help all I can!”
Curiosity of fellow students was aroused with Reed Markham’s continued absence from the study periods at school and this curiosity was intensified when it was rumored around by townspeople that the Southerner had been seen in the company of Coach Turner, both with skis under their arms, hurrying for the enclosure of the ball field. As the gates were locked, it was impossible to see what was taking place within but the inference was evident.
“So Softy’s going in for skiing!” Sam Hartley taunted one day as he encountered Reed on the campus.
The Southerner glanced coldly at the fellow whom he so thoroughly detested.
“Well, what of it?” he asked, controlling his smoldering temper with difficulty. This “Softy” nom de plume was a new one.
“Doesn’t Softy know that skiing is a he-man’s sport?” was Sam’s kidding inquiry. “Softy doesn’t like snow ... he hates to be rolled in it. What’s he going to do when he gets his skis crossed going down hill? Or is he just going to ski on the level?”
“None of your business!” Reed retorted.
Sam laughed and the other fellows with him laughed. The idea of a Southerner ... this Southerner, anyway, taking up the manly sport of skiing! Of course the use of the snow was free.