“His friend Towne is a bit of a joker,” he observed.
“He ought to have his head punched,” declared Gerald hotly. “Playing a joke on a chap as green as that fellow is like—like stealing pennies from a blind man!”
“He doesn’t seem to have much doubt as to his ability to play football,” said Dan with a laugh. “Said he guessed he was a natural-born player.”
Gerald grinned. “Yes, that was funny. Still, I like the chap’s looks just the same. And who knows, Dan? He may turn out a star!”
“I’m afraid it will take some turning, though,” laughed Dan. “However, he’s got my best wishes. Goodness knows I can use all the stars I can find this year!”
When Kendall returned to his room Harold Towne was ready for bed. He faced Kendall with one foot between the sheets and a broad grin on his thin face.
“Well, did you fill out your blank?” he asked with a chuckle. But the chuckle died away in his throat, for Kendall advanced across the room with an unsmiling countenance.
“I’ve got a good mind,” he said in a low voice, “to punch you in the face.”