No one knew very much about it, save that there had been a proposition that, in addition to having a football and baseball team, as well as possibly a rowing crew, Randall try for some of the honors in all-around athletics—broad and high jumping, putting the shot, hurdles, and hundred yard and other dashes.
“I think it would be a good thing,” declared Tom. “With Spring coming soon——”
“Spring!” broke in Phil. “It looks a lot like Spring; doesn’t it? with us just back from a coasting party.”
“Oh, well, this snow fall was out of date,” declared Sid.
“Spring will be here before we know it,” went on Frank, in dreamy tones. “I can almost hear the frogs croaking in the pond now. Oh, for glorious, warm and sunny Spring. I——”
“Cut it out!” cried Phil, shying a book at his chum. “You’re as bad as Tom with your poetry,” and they all looked toward the pitcher, who seemed unusually downcast.
“Do you think you’ll have to go soon?” asked Sid, after a pause.
“I hope not at all,” answered Tom, “but there is no telling. If the case goes against dad I’ll leave, of course, and buckle down to hard work. If he wins it—why, I’ll stay on here.”
“And take part in the athletic contests?” asked Frank.