Cloud got mad and told Clausen--Clausen's
his chum--that if he went off the team he'd leave school. I guess few of
us would be sorry. Bartlett Cloud's a coward from the toes up, March,
and if he tries to make it unpleasant for you, why, just offer to knock
him down and he'll change his tune."
"Thank you for telling me," responded Joel, "but I don't expect to have
much to do with him; I don't like his looks. I know the boy you mean,
now. He's the fellow that called me names--'Country,' you know, and
such--the first day we had practice. I heard him, but didn't let on. I
didn't mind much, but it didn't win my love." West laughed uproariously
and slapped Joel on the back.
"Oh, you're a queer sort, March. I'd have had a fight on the spot. But
you--Say, you're going to be an awful grind, March, if you keep on in
your present terrible course. You won't have time for any fun at all.
And I was going to teach you golf, you know. It's not nice of you, it
really isn't."
"I'll play golf with you the first afternoon we don't have practice,
West, honestly. I'm awfully sorry I'm such a crank about lessons, but
you see I've made up my mind to try for the--the--what scholarship
is that?"
"Carmichael?" suggested West. Joel shook his head.
"No, the big one." West stared.
"Do you mean the Goodwin scholarship?"
"Yes, that's the one," answered Joel. West whistled.
"Well, you're not modest to hurt, March. Why, man, that's a terror! You
have to have the Greek alphabet backward, and never miss chapel all term
to get a show at that.
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