For once, though, the matron resisted their blandishments and Ned and Spud sought the porch dejectedly.
“How did you get on today, Cal?” asked Ned.
“All right, I cal’late. It don’t look like it would be very hard,” he added cautiously.
“It’s awful,” sighed Spud. “You simply have to wear your young life out in study. If it wasn’t that I want to go to college mighty bad I’d throw up the grind and be a pirate. Did you ever see a pirate, Cal?”
“No,” was the laughing reply.
“Well, I thought maybe you had. Aren’t there any pirates at West Something—Bayport, is it?”
“I never saw any. But there’s a man there who was in a fight with pirates once.” And Cal told about Old Captain Macon, one of the town characters, who, in addition to having led a highly picturesque existence as a young man, was possessed of an equally picturesque imagination as an old one. By ones and twos the other West House fellows came wandering home and joined the group on the porch. The conversation turned on school affairs and soon Cal was listening to a fervid discussion of the chances of the House Football Team to beat the Hall that Autumn. If Sandy was to be believed things were in a fearfully bad shape and the future held nothing but gloom. But Cal had already reached the conclusion that Sandy’s position as head of the House had developed an overwrought sense of responsibility and a pessimistic attitude toward life. Dutch, on the other hand, saw only certain victory ahead.
“The Hall hasn’t the ghost of a show this year,” he declared emphatically. “We’ve got the men to do them up brown. Cal, you don’t want to forget to report for practice tomorrow afternoon right after school.”
“Wish they’d let us play outside teams,” sighed Hoop.
“Don’t they?” asked Cal in surprise.