Russell found not only the hockey and basket ball captains in Number 4 Lykes Hall the next evening, but Cal Grainger. These, with Stanley, Jimmy and Russell, quite filled the room. Afterwards, Russell learned from Jimmy that Cal’s appearance was unsolicited and unexpected. Jimmy managed to convey the impression that Russell was a frequent caller, and was aided in the mild deception by Stanley, who had been admitted to the conspiracy. Russell was aware of the slightly puzzled inspections of the others, but appeared not to be. Bob Coolidge, the hockey team captain, was a tall, slim-bodied senior with a nice smile and a queer way of stuttering when he got the least bit excited. Sid Greenwood was small in comparison, with sharp black eyes, rebellious dark hair and a quick manner of speech and movement. Russell knew them both by sight, just as he knew Cal Grainger, but had never been introduced to them before to-night. He found a seat on a corner of Stanley’s bed after the introductions had been performed and helped himself to the caramels that Stanley passed. The talk was concerned with the criminality of the Athletic Committee, and Coolidge stuttered amusingly as he thumped the edge of the window-seat.
“A l-lot of Miss N-N-Nancies,” he declared earnestly. “You’d think we were j-just kids, the way they c-c-coddle us! Gosh! Why, look at Kenly! They g-g-got a twelve-game sc-sc-sc-sc—”
“Schedule,” prompted Cal kindly.
“—Hedule,” went on Coolidge, batting his eyes wildly. “And all we c-c-can get is s-seven games, with a p-p-possibility of eight if we c-c-can p-p-persuade Oak Grove to play here! What kind of a sc-sc—”
“You can’t say it, Bob,” interposed Greenwood. “Don’t try. We know what you mean. Also, son, we agree with you that the committee is a bunch of old women and that Peghorn is the worst of the lot. I hope he gets his bonnet-strings all knotted up! You can’t—”
“Oh, Peg isn’t to blame,” said Jimmy. “He’s no worse than the rest. What we need here is a student council or something to talk turkey to those antediluvian birds. How many games do you fellows get away, Sid?”
“Four,” replied the basket ball leader scornfully.
“Well, that’s one more than we get,” said Jimmy.
“Sure, but it’s different—”
“Taking a football team around’s not at all the same,” broke in Cal. “You have to have thirty or more fellows and half a dozen coaches and trainers and nurses—”