“Well,” said Roy after the meeting was over, “that went all right.”
“According to program,” agreed Chub cheerfully.
“You fellows may think it was cheeky of me to get up the team and then have myself elected captain,” said Dick, “but I know that I’m the only fellow here who can see the thing through. And I suppose that sounds conceited.”
“Well, it might from some one else,” said Roy, “but it doesn’t from you, Dick. Anyhow, it’s just about so. If any fellow can make a track team go here it’s you. And I hope you’ll succeed.”
“Oh, I’ll succeed all right,” answered Dick calmly. “Of course I don’t look for many victories this year, but if we get the team started it’ll keep a-going, and next year or the year after that we’ll show a few of those conceited Hammondites what we can do.”
“I wish I had some of your confidence,” sighed Chub. “If I had I’d feel better about base-ball.”
“Chub’s an optimist when it comes to other people’s affairs,” laughed Roy, “and a confirmed growler about his own. Last year he was certain we were going to get licked by Hammond; went around for two weeks before the game looking as though he’d swallowed a barrel of pickles.”
“Were you?” Dick asked.
“Not a bit of it! We won, eight to seven.”
“It was a close call, though,” said Chub. “If you hadn’t—”