"Agreed," said the others.
"And," added the Codfish, "let's take a vacation. I'm all worked to a frazzle with the responsibility of secretary, treasurer, manager, press agent, artist and general goat of this Transportation Company."
"Poor old Codfish!" said Jimmy. "He speaks well."
"He has the wisdom of a Solomon," cried Frank; "and besides, Jimmy, we ought to get in some work on football before we go back to Queen's. What would you fellows say if we were to tie the Black Duck up to the dock to-morrow and try a little drop kicking?"
"Great," said Jimmy, "but where's the ball?"
"You don't think I'd come down here without one, do you?" said Frank contemptuously. "I brought a nice new one along with me and all we need is a pump to blow it up with."
"Oh, I've got a bike pump," said Lewis.
"Just the thing," remarked Frank. "Shoot up and get it and we will put the ball in condition to-night."
Lewis hurried off as fast as he could go and Frank dragged forth the football. The lacings were eased up, and when Lewis got back a little later with his pump, the four of them set to work to inflate the interior rubber bag. It was quite a job, as any one knows who has tried it, but after much puffing and much struggling with the lacings, and much sage and useless advice from the Codfish, the rubber bag was blown up tight and tied, and the ball was ready for use. And the boys were also about ready for bed.
It was with very deep pride that Frank, escorted by his three companions, rang the doorbell in the Simpkins house the next morning, and laid the last installment, a few minutes later, on the desk of the old gentleman himself, who sat there smiling pleasantly at the boys.