"Noble ambition," said the Codfish, "but what's the use? There's nothing more for the track men this spring."
"Just the same I'm going to keep at it."
"Go ahead then, jump your legs off, while Turner and I win the glory."
Turner had by steady improvement worked himself into the position of first catcher on the Freshman team. The Codfish, leaving temporarily his ambition to break into the exclusive ranks of the Mandolin Club, had won the position of official scorer of the Freshman, a place which he filled with great credit.
"Another sit-down job," said Turner laughing. "Trust the Codfish to get something easy."
"Why not? I don't love violent exercise. If I hanker for the cool shade of the scorer's bench and can record the glorious deeds of our young catcher and ease up on him when he makes flub-dubs, who is to say me nay? But I'm a believer in hard work, just the same——"
"For the other fellow," broke in Frank.
"Sure, that's what gives Yale her prestige, doesn't it? If it becomes necessary for me to don the baseball suit to uphold the athletics of Yale, then I'll do it. Till then, with all you good workers around, I don't see any reason why I shouldn't take the shade."
"Noble youth," said Frank. "We'll keep on in the sun and let you take the shade," and nothing either the Codfish or Turner could say changed Frank's determination to keep everlastingly at his jumping practice, uninteresting though it appeared to his roommates.
"Now I know why you stuck to the jumping," said the Codfish one morning as he scanned the first page of the News.