“You’re right about old Stoney,” he said. “He knows the new rules. Why, he must have studied them until he has every word by heart. Perhaps he’ll make a fairly good captain, after all, though he never can come up to Roger Eliot.”
AARON QUINN HOBBLED BACK TOWARD THE HUT, CARRYING THE MONKEY. —Page 74.
“Perhaps not,” admitted Sage. “Eliot certainly was a natural leader at anything he undertook. I’m glad you came out yesterday.”
“Oh, it isn’t likely I’ll get a chance to play.”
“I’ll guarantee you will if you pitch in. Why, there’s Piper, the last fellow one would ever suppose could make good at the game.”
“That’s right,” agreed Roy. “Say, he came round and interviewed me last night. He’s got another bug in his bonnet. Asked me all sorts of questions about the strange man I saw in the woods. What do you suppose he thinks he’s up to?”
“He’s struck a trail,” laughed Fred. “He was up at my house to see me, too.”
“Well, it would give me some satisfaction if he could find out who the man was. Don’t suppose you were able to enlighten him any?”
“Not a bit. I told you yesterday that I hadn’t the remotest idea who the stranger could be.”