“I’m sorry that he and Nat Wingate won’t be back in the school this term,” he remarked. “By the way, Dave, we’ll have to hustle to catch up with our studies.”
“Don’t mention it, Bob. Just think of how the doors of that school are yawning for us even now.”
“They’ll have to yawn a mighty big, wide yawn for you,” said Victor.
“Go ahead, Charlie, read that letter out loud,” cried Tom.
Blake was soon smiling broadly.
“Kirk has a few interesting knocks to hand out, Bob,” he chuckled. “Just listen:
“‘Dear Charlie:—
“‘Your last effusion is lying on my desk. So you are actually going to meet Bob Somers and his chums! Say, don’t those chaps manage to have the finest time ever, with their aeroplanes, house-boats, automobiles and a dash of cowboy life in between!
“‘And you are going to motor back to Kingswood with them! That’s great.
“‘But I’ve got a bit of news which ought to make Bob Somers sit up and take notice. Nat Wingate and I have formed a football team. Yes, it’s true. There’s a lot of good material going to waste here in town. And the high school team has had its own way so long it’s time somebody took them down a peg. And though we really hate to do it those chaps are in for the worst drubbing of their career, and we’re even talking about a ball nine next spring.’”