Part 39 (1/2)
”Oh, King, how could you!”
For another warning meant banishment from the football team and all the devastation that implied.
”That would just about end us,” said Dennis. ”Might as well save Andover the traveling expenses.”
”I know, I know!” said P. Lentz furiously. ”I've had it all said to me. Beautifully expressed, too. Question is, what's to be done? It's all the fault of old Baranson. He's been down on me ever since we licked the Woodhull.”
”We must think of something,” said the Tennessee Shad.
”How about a doctor's certificate?”
”Rats!”
”We might get up a demonstration against Baranson.”
”Lot's of good that'll do me!”
Various suggestions were offered and rejected.
”Well, King,” said the Tennessee Shad at last, ”I don't see there's anything to it but you'll have to buckle down and study.”
”Study?” said P. Lentz. ”Is that the best you can produce?”
”It seems the simplest.”
”I came here for consolation,” said P. Lentz, who thereupon departed angrily.
”Still, it'll come to that,” said the Tennessee Shad.
”P. Lentz study?” said Finnegan contemptuously. ”Can a duck whistle?”
”Then we'll have to tutor him.”
”What says d.i.n.k?”
”Don't bother me, I'm thinking.”
”Gracious, may I watch you?”
”Shad,” said Stover, ignoring Dennis, ”did it ever occur to you how unscientific this whole game is?”
”What game?”
”This chasing the Latin root, wrestling with the unknown equation, and all that sort of thing.”
”Proceed.”
”Why are we smashed up? Because we are discouraged all fighting alone, unscientifically. Does the light dawn?”
”Very slowly,” said the Tennessee Shad. ”Keep dawning.”