“What you tell me sounds perfectly beautiful,” said Toby sadly, “but I’m afraid it isn’t true.”
Thereupon Arnold thrust towel and soap into his hands, Frank held the door open and between them they pushed him, groaning and remonstrating, into the corridor and headed him toward the lavatory.
“It’s really an awful joke on him,” chuckled Arnold as Toby’s lagging footsteps receded down the hall. “He thought he was as hard as nails, and had a fine time crowing over me yesterday. Said it took more than sailing a boat to keep a fellow in shape!”
“I guess the only way to keep fit enough for football,” said Frank, feelingly, “is to chop trees all summer. I was just about all in last night. How did you manage to persuade him to take up football, anyway, Arn? I thought he was dead set against it.”
“So did I. I didn’t persuade him. I don’t know who did—or what! He sprung it on me suddenly yesterday. I’m glad, though. I think there’s a good football player in Toby, Frank.”
CHAPTER VI
SIGNALS
Although Toby was back in Whitson before nine that evening, it is needless to say that the note he had promised himself to write to George Tubb did not get written. In fact Toby forgot all about it until the next morning, when Arnold found Tubb’s letter on the floor and asked Toby if it was anything he wanted to keep.
“No, throw it in the basket,” answered Toby. “Hold on, though! Guess I’ll keep it. I’ve got to answer it to-day. Stick it on the table, Arn.”