“About everywhere,” answered Dan. “I’ve no doubt the river’s yellow with it. Here’s what’s left, though.”
Alf viewed it disgustedly.
“It’s a wonder you wouldn’t eat all the lunch, you chaps, while I work for you and singe my eyebrows off. Your toast’s burning, Gerald.”
There wasn’t a respectable crumb left when they had finished the repast. They built the fire up again and lolled back on the rugs and talked lazily while the sun traveled westward and the wind whistled through the trees and sent the smoke eddying across the river. They talked the football season all over and played the Broadwood game again from start to finish. And then Tom took up the subject of basket ball and outlined his plans for the season, for he was captain of the Five. Afterwards the talk went on to hockey.
“You’re coming out this year,” said Alf to Dan. “Don’t forget that.”
“But I can’t skate for a hang,” Dan objected.
“You’ll pick it up all right. Besides, you could try for goal. We need a good goal tend and you wouldn’t have to do much skating there.”
“Are you going to play, Tom?” asked Dan. Tom shook his head.
“No, I won’t have time.”
“Here’s one candidate, though,” said Dan. “Gerald says he’s going out for the team, Alf.”