“I’ve had a couple of trials just to see what I could do. Guy is after me to give him three afternoons a week. I suppose I’ll have to pretty soon.”
“Oh, bother the Track Team,” said Way. “It won’t amount to anything and you’ll lose baseball practice. Cut it out this year, Lanny.”
“Not much! If it came to a show-down I’d rather run the hundred and two-twenty than play ball. And don’t you be mistaken about the team being no good. We’re going to have a mighty good team this year and we’re going to simply run away from Springdale. You wait and see.”
“What of it if we do?” grumbled Way. “Who cares?”
“Most everyone except you, you old pudding-head,” responded Gordon. “Want me to take her awhile now, Lanny?”
“No, thank you kindly. Guy’s having a pretty hard time to get fellows interested in the track, and that’s a fact, but he’s going to win out all right. Don’t go around talking like that, Way, because it isn’t fair. Just because you don’t care for track sports, you needn’t discourage other fellows.”
“Oh, I haven’t said anything to discourage anyone. For that matter, if Guy wants to get a team together I wish him luck. But I don’t think there’s room for football and baseball and track, too. We ought to—to concentrate.”
“Rot! Let’s beat Springdale at every old thing we can. Them’s my sentiments,” announced Morris. “If we could do ’em up at tiddley-winks I’d be in favor of starting a team!”
“And I suppose you’d play left wink on it,” laughed Way.