"How could we help missing it? Andy isn't any goal kicker, and all the others were afraid to try, I suppose. What's the odds, though! We won, and six to nothing is good enough, isn't it?"
"Mm—yes; seven to nothing would have looked better, though."
"And you're the fellow," scoffed Steve, "who was almost crying awhile back because Claflin would feel bad if we licked her!"
Tom only grunted. Steve went into a daydream with one leg in his trousers until, presently, Tom laughed softly.
"What are you choking about?" asked Steve.
"Just thinking. Remember, Steve, coming on in the train how we were talking about what—what it would be like here?"
"N—no," answered Steve. "Were we?"
"Yes. I remember you said that in the stories the hero was always suspected of something he hadn't done and you said you'd bet that if anyone tried that on you you'd make a kick."
"Well, what of it?"
"You didn't, though. Some of the fellows thought you'd swiped that blue-book that time and you didn't make a murmur."