"He was probably tender," said Tom.
"Yes, he—Tender! That'll do for you!" said Steve indignantly, aiming a blow at Tom's ribs which was skilfully evaded. "Let's stop at the office in here and see if we can get lockers."
They could. Moreover, Mr. Conklin, the physical director, informed them, to their deep satisfaction, that the charge of one dollar each would be placed on their term bill if they wished. They wished with instant enthusiasm and departed, keys in hand, to find their lockers. They found the room thronged with fellows in various stages of undressing, while from the baths came deep groans and shrill shrieks and the hiss and splash of water. Their lockers were side by side at the farther end of the last aisle; and, after making certain that the keys fitted them, they began to get out of their clothes, only to make the discovery when partly disrobed that they had no towels.
"I'm going to ask someone to lend me one," said Steve. "You can use an end of it if I get it. I'm going to have that shower or bust."
A cheerful-faced youth draped in a frayed bathrobe came up at that moment and Steve sought counsel of him.
"Towel? I'd lend you one in a minute, but mine are all soiled. You can see for yourself." He nodded toward the open door of his locker on the floor of which lay a pile of what were evidently bath towels. "I forgot to send them to the wash before I went away in the spring. If you ask Danny he might let you have one. I guess he's around somewhere."
Steve found the trainer leaning against the doorway of the rubbing room. "'Tis Sam Edwards!" greeted Danny. "An' how did it go to-day, me boy?"
"Pretty good, thanks. Could you lend me a couple of towels, Mister—er—Danny?"
"I doubt have I got any, but I'll look an' see," and Danny disappeared into the room behind him.
"Here you are, Sam," he said in a moment. "They're small but select. Fetch 'em back when you're through with 'em, if you please. They're school property, d'ye mind, and it's me that's answerable for them."