“That’s likely,” scoffed Leonard. “What you got against Renneker?”
“Nothing. Only—” Slim sobered, and after a moment’s pause continued: “Only that yarn of Johnny McGrath’s makes me sort of wonder whether—well, if Renneker wasn’t on the team, General, there wouldn’t be anything to worry about!”
“I thought you’d decided that there wasn’t anything in that idea of McGrath’s.”
“So I had. I’m still that way. Only—well, I wish some one would find out the truth of it. Or you’d beat him out for the place!”
“I’ve got a fine chance, Slim! Look here, if you think there’s a chance that McGrath isn’t mistaken why don’t you ask Renneker about it?”
Slim shrugged. “It isn’t my funeral. Besides, what’s to prevent him from lying?”
Leonard shook his head. “I don’t believe he would, Slim. He doesn’t seem that sort, you know.”
“No,” agreed Slim, grudgingly, “he doesn’t. Oh, well, I should worry. Gee, I’ve got enough to attend to without turning reformer. There’s the class dinner Saturday, and Cash tells me only about half the bunch have paid up so far. By the way, have you heard anything?”
“Not a thing,” replied Leonard.
“Guess you haven’t tried very hard,” grumbled the other. “I’d like to know what the freshies are up to. They’ve got something planned. You can see that by the knowing look of ’em. Some fool stunt the juniors have put ’em up to, I’ll wager. Well—”