“They sang off a lot of other scores, and I told Pete to remember them, but I’ll bet he hasn’t,” said Hop. “What were they, Dumb-bell?”
Pete shrugged. “All I remember is Mount Millard and Banning, Mt. Millard won. I forget the score: 26 to something, I think; maybe it was 26 to 14.”
“Who cares?” asked Ted Ball. “The question interesting me is what’ll the score be next Saturday?”
“Oh, we’ll win,” said Nip. “We can’t have any more rotten luck!”
“I’d like to believe it,” answered Coles.
“Say,” asked Hop, “heard about the new club just started? Called the Garbage Pail. Very exclusive. Only five members so far. I’m president and Pete’s secretary, or something. I’d be glad to propose you guys only you’re not rotten enough—yet!”
“Johnny,” said Pete, “has just been elected to Ornery Membership. It wouldn’t be a bad idea for some of you chaps to fill out your applications soon. You might be eligible in a day or two.”
“And that’s no Mother Goose tale!” said Nip. “Every time Johnny looks my way I start to pull my head guard off and write out my resignation. Keep a place in the Pail for me, Hop!”
“Say, what about it, Cap?” asked Pete. “Are we down-and-out, or is Johnny just having a joke with us?”
“Guess he means it,” answered Jonas soberly. “You fellows want to hump yourselves.”