“Ye-es, but that would be sort of babyish, wouldn’t it? I’d a heap rather get there by my own—er—efforts.”
“So would I,” responded Leonard a trifle impatiently, “but your own efforts aren’t getting us there! And—and it’s getting late!”
The clock said eight minutes past now. The two subsided into silence again. Slim set down his empty glass. “Want another?” he asked morosely. Leonard shook his head. Half a hundred more precious seconds passed and then Leonard gave an exclamation of triumph. “Got it!” he declared. “Got it, Slim! At least, I think so. How does this strike you?”
Pushing aside his glass, Leonard bent his head close and explained his project, while Slim, at first looking dubious, at last nodded in wholehearted approval. “Sure!” he said with conviction. “That’ll do it, I’ll bet, General. But, hold on, how about you? That sort of leaves you out in the storm, doesn’t it?”
“Never mind me,” said Leonard. “You’re the important one. Besides, I’ll make it somehow later. All I ask you to do is to see that there’s something left when I do get there.”
“Well,” said Slim, “if you don’t get in when I do I’ll take a bunch and go out and get you.”
“Thought you said that sort of thing was babyish? No, you just see that there’s something left, Slim, and leave the rest to me. I guess they won’t care whether I make it or not. It’s only you, as the Class President, who interests them.”
Slim looked doubtful, but time was passing and he had thrown down the gauntlet to the Freshman Class. “All right,” he agreed. “Have it your way. Let’s go.”
“Wait a minute,” objected Leonard. “We’ve got it wrong. We’d both better try the same end of the block. They’ve seen you in that white sweater there and won’t be looking for you in anything else. See what I mean?”
“Yes, and I guess you’re right, General. And say, old son, as a general you’re sure making good!”