“Me for the mountains,” declared Sid.
“And a lake and a motor-boat for me,” chimed in Phil. “How about you, Tom?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t made any plans. It depends on how dad’s lawsuit comes out. I may be a waiter in a hotel where some of you fellows are sporting.”
“If you are, I’ll sit at your table and give you big enough tips so you can come back to Randall in the Fall,” spoke Sid with a laugh, in which the others joined. And then, with minds that probably dwelt more on the happenings of the day than on their books, the three fell to studying. But Tom remained stretched out on the sofa, with his arms up over his head, and his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“Everybody out for practice to-day!” ordered Holly Cross the following afternoon, as a crowd of lads poured forth from Randall at the close of the last lecture of the day. “Shot-putters, weight throwers, runners, jumpers, hurdlers—everybody on the job!”
“What’s the rush?” asked Phil. “Anything new?”
“Well, yes, in a way. The committee from the four colleges met last night, and we’ve practically decided to hold the meet. All the objectionable points were done away with, and it only remains to decide on the events and the date.”
“That’s the stuff!” cried the Big Californian.
“Wow! Something doing all right!” yelled Shambler. “I’m going to get into my running togs.”
“You’d think the whole college depended on him,” remarked Sid, with a half sneer, as the new student hastened toward the gymnasium.