“You won’t do that at Mount Morris,” said Dud, “because you’re nowhere near the village there. The school’s about three miles from Greenbank; and it’s up-hill all the way, too. I know, for I walked it once.”
“Oh, you’ve been there?”
“Yes,” answered Dud grimly. “Last June. Jimmy was with me. We got left at Webster and had to foot it most of the way. We found a handcar after awhile and did pretty well until a train came sneaking up on us and we had to throw the handcar down the bank. That was some journey, Jimmy.”
Jimmy smiled reflectively. “It certainly was! And say, Crail, what do you suppose this idiot did after we got to Greenbank? Well, he went in and pitched three innings and won the game for us!”
“Good leather!” Crail viewed Dud with new interest. “Pitched, eh? Say, that’s something I’d like mighty well to do. I tried baseball at Dunning last spring, but the captain and I had a falling-out and I got fired.”
“What position did you play?” asked Dud.
“First base—when I played. There was another fellow, though, that had me beat. Football is what I’m crazy about, though. What sort of a team do you have at Grafton?”
“Good enough to win from Mount Morris two years out of three,” answered Jimmy. “We’ll have a wonder this year, for we’ve got a lot of good men left from last season. Do you play?”
“I tried it a little last fall,” answered Crail, “but I didn’t make the team. I’d never seen football near-to until then. I guess it takes a pile of learning, that game. I’m sure fond of it, though, and I’m going to try it again this time.”
“You ought to make good at it,” said Jimmy, running an appreciative eye over Crail’s muscular body. “Guard is your place, I guess.”