Part 7 (1/2)

”Corking! I was on Dad's yacht all through August. Saw the races and everything. Bully eats, too. You understand.”

”Yes,” Joe Stevenson replied, ”and I understand why you're about twenty pounds overweight, Kewpie! You ought to be kicked around the yard, you fat loafer. Thought you wanted to play center this fall.”

”I'm going to! Listen, Joe, I'm only fourteen pounds over and I'll drop that in no time. Honest, I will. You see! Besides, it isn't all fat, either. A lot of it's good, hard muscle.”

”Yes, it is! I can see you getting muscle lying around on your father's yacht! I'm off you, Kewpie. You haven't acted square. You knew mighty well that you were supposed to keep yourself fit this summer, and now look at you! You're a big fat lump!”

”Aw, say, Joe! Listen, will you?” Proudtree's gaze wandered in search of inspiration and fell on the twins. His face lighted. ”h.e.l.lo, you chaps!”

he said. Then he leaned over and spoke to Joe. ”Say, have you met the Turner brothers, Joe? One of 'em's a swell player. Played out in North Dakota or somewhere.”

”Which one?” asked Joe, surrept.i.tiously eying the twins. ”Why, the-I forget: they look so much alike, you know. I think it's the one this way. Or maybe it's the other. Anyway, I'll fetch them over, eh?”

”All right, Kewpie.”

Kewpie started away, paused, and spoke again. ”They're-they're awfully modest chaps, Joe. You'd think from hearing them talk that they didn't know much about the game, but don't you be fooled. That's just their way. You understand.”

”Oh, sure, Kewpie!” And when the latter had gone on his errand Joe smiled and, lowering his voice, said to Frank Brattle: ”Kewpie's trying to put something over. I wonder what.”

”Proudtree tells me one of you fellows plays football,” said Joe, a minute later, when introductions had been performed and Ned and Laurie had seated themselves. ”We need good players this fall. Of course, I hope you'll both come out.”

”Ned's the football chap,” said Laurie. ”Baseball's my line.”

”I don't know-” began Ned, but Laurie pinched him warningly, and he gulped and, to Kewpie's evident relief, made a fresh start. ”I'm not much of a player,” he said modestly, ”but I'm willing to have a try at it.”

Kewpie darted an ”I-told-you-so” glance at Joe and Frank.

”Where do you come from, Turner?” Joe asked politely.

”Santa Lucia, California. I was in the high school there two years.

Everything's quite-quite different here.” Ned spoke hurriedly, as though anxious to switch the conversation from football, and Laurie smiled in wicked enjoyment. ”The climate's different, you know,” Ned went on desperately, ”and the country and-and everything.”

”I suppose so,” said Frank Brattle. ”What's your position, Turner?”

”Position?”

”Yes; I mean, where did you play? Behind the line, I suppose, or maybe end.”

”Oh, yes, yes, behind the line. You see, I-I-”

”There aren't many fellows can play half-back the way Ned can,” said Laurie, gravely. ”He won't tell you so, but if you ever meet any one who saw him play against Weedon School last year-”

”Shut up!” begged Ned, almost tearfully.

Kewpie was grinning delightedly. Joe Stevenson viewed Ned with absolute affection. ”Half-back, eh? Well, we can use another good half, Turner, and I hope you're the fellow. I don't know whether Kewpie told you that I'm captain this year, but I am, and I'm going to try mighty hard to captain a winning team. You look a bit light, but I dare say you're fast, and, for my part, I like them that way. Besides, we've got Mason and Boessel if we want the heavy sort. Practice starts to-morrow at four, by the way. How about your brother? Glad to have him come out, too. Even if he hasn't played, he might learn the trick. And there's next year to think of, you know.”

”I think not, thanks,” answered Laurie. ”One football star is enough in the family.”

”Well, if you change your mind, come on and have a try. Glad to have met you. See you to-morrow-er-Turner. I want to find Dave, Frank. Coming along?”