“Gym work,” grunted the other. “Take my advice and keep away from it. Don’t go out for the team until it gets out of doors. Are you still thinking of trying for the school?”
“Of course.”
Jimmy grunted. “You’ll have a fine show, I don’t think! Better try for the second, Dud.”
“I don’t expect to make it, but it’s good practice, and maybe next year——”
“You’ll stand more chance with the second, and have a lot more fun. The second’s going to have a regular schedule this year; five or six games, maybe; going away for some of them, too.”
“If I don’t make the first, and I suppose I won’t, of course, I’ll try for the second,” said Dud. “I asked Murtha this morning if he thought it would be all right to try for the first, and he said——”
“Guy Murtha said, ‘Yes, indeed, Baker, we want all the candidates we can get!’ That’s what they always tell you, and then, when you get out there, they inform you gently but firmly that you won’t do, and hadn’t you better stay with your class team this year and try again next? What’s the use? I like to play ball, Dud, but you don’t catch me putting in a month’s grind in the cage and then getting the G. B. as soon as we get outdoors. Me for the second—and safety.”
“You’re lazy,” replied Dud, shutting his book and stowing the ball back of the pillows. “You could make the first this spring if you’d try for it. You ought to, too.”
Jimmy shrugged. “Maybe so. But I’d rather have a sure place on the second, thanks. Gee, but I’m tired!”
“Skiing?”