“Grab it!” yelled Frank.
“Safe!” ejaculated Sid, holding it up. “But it was a close call. The next time you fellows want to do the catch-as-catch-can, go out in the hall. This is a gentleman’s resort, mind.”
“I’ll punch your head—if I think of it to-morrow,” grumbled Tom, who had been half asleep when Phil so unceremoniously awakened him. “Remind me of it—somebody.”
“On your peril,” laughed Phil, as he grabbed up some of the cushions which had fallen under his chum, and made an easy place for himself on the now vacant sofa. Tom continued to lie on the floor.
“Anything doing outside when you came in?” asked Frank.
“Not much. I stopped in the gym, and a lot of the fellows were talking track athletics, and Grasshopper was jumping.”
“It looks as if there’d be something doing this Spring,” commented Frank. “I was talking to Holly Cross, Kindlings and some of the others, and there’s a good show for the new league. All the other teams are hot for it. We’ve got to have several more meetings though, and see if we can get enough cash to buy the prizes, and arrange for the meet.”
“Would it be held here on our grounds?” asked Tom, showing a sudden interest.
“Well, some of the fellows want it here, and Boxer Hall is going to make a strong bid for it,” said Sid. “I think, and so does Kindlings, that it ought to be on some neutral field.”