"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.
It was well after three o'clock before the Flying Juggernaut completed her last trip across the field and the moon was well down toward the west. Four very tired boys—and sleepy, too, now that the effects of the coffee were working off—rolled across
to the gate, unbarred it, rolled through, closed it
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