"It must be great to work on a farm," said Lee, punching the Deacon's shoulders.
"Come on," one of them shouted, "we're taking a walk about the old place to see how everything looks. Let's gather a crowd—Ninety-blank this way!"
They shouted the old cry in concert and started off together.
"What are you going to do this year, Deacon?" It was Todd who happened to be marching next to Young.
"How do you mean?"
"Well, are you going to pole or loaf or be a dead-game or what?"
"Well," answered Young, "I'm going to do some of the first and combine some football with it if I have good luck; but I am not going to try any more of the last. I don't know as I need tell you that, Todd." He wanted to say more, but only frowned as he thought of how hard it would be to accomplish what he had resolved to accomplish with the club this year.
Todd said, "I'm glad you told me, though. I think the whole club made a fool of itself last year. It needs to take a big brace."
Young turned and looked at him. Todd had spoken in his usual quiet, careless manner, but Young thought his words implied something.
"Do you think—say, Todd, do you think there's much hope of its bracing?"