“That doesn’t go with me; you’ve got to be sure.”
“All right, let a fellow up, will you? There’s a lot of snow down my neck.”
“That’s what happened to me the last time you fired a high snowball, Peaches. That’s why I didn’t want you to try another while I’m around. You wait until I’m off the campus if you’ve got to indulge in high jinks. Come on now, fellows, since Peaches has promised to behave himself, let the merry dance go on. Have you tried a shot, Joe? Or you, Sister,” and Teeter looked at the newcomers.
“Not yet,” answered Joe Matson with a smile. “Haven’t had a chance.”
“That’s right,” put in Tom Davis. “You started a rough-house with Peaches as soon as we got here. What’s on, anyhow?”
“Oh, we’re just seeing how straight we can aim with snowballs,” explained Teeter. “See if you can hit that barrel head down there,” and he pointed to the object in question, about forty yards away on the school campus.
“See if you can hit the barrel, Joe,” urged George Bland. “A lot of us have missed it, including Peaches, who seems to think his particular stunt is high throwing.”
“And so it is!” interrupted the lad with the clear complexion. “I can beat any one here at——”
“Save that talk until the baseball season opens!” retorted Teeter. “Go ahead, Joe and Tom. And you other fellows can try if you like,” he added, for several more pupils had joined the group.
It might seem easy to hit the head of a barrel at that distance, but either the lads were not expert enough or else the snowballs, being of irregular shapes and rather light, did not carry well. Whatever the cause, the fact remained that the barrel received only a few scattering shots and these on the outer edges of the head.