The Grammar School Boys in Summer Athletics | Page 2

warm June breezes on this glorious afternoon.
"Give Dave the chorus of 'He Was the Sleepiest Boy,'" whispered Greg to the others. "Put a lot of steam into every line!"
At a sign from young Holmes the drowsy chorus rolled out, punctuated by timely yawns.
Darry rolled over, yawning, too, an easy-going smile on his face.
"Greg," he charged, "I'm certain that you put the crowd up to that outrage. When I summon up energy enough I'm going to thrash you."
"All right," agreed Greg, "I'll take boxing lessons within a year or two, so as to be prepared for you."
"I wish this were to-morrow afternoon," grumbled Harry Hazelton.
"I'm glad it's to-day," sighed Dave easily.
"But to-morrow will be Monday, and we can play baseball."
"And just because to-morrow will be Monday," retorted Dave, "Old Dut will expect us to bring in those fifteen examples in insurance."
"We'll be all past that, by afternoon," Dan broke in. "Then, as soon as the bell rings to dismiss school, we'll all pile outside and have a ripping practice on the diamond."
"Yes; we'll have to get a lot of practice," Dick assented. "Otherwise, you know, the North Grammar will just wipe up the field with us Wednesday afternoon."
"The North Grammar!" sniffed Greg scornfully. "Hi Martin's crowd? Huh!"
"Those North Grammar boys have been practising," Dick insisted. "Hard work is what tells in athletics."
"Well, hang it, didn't you keep us running all through the spring?" demanded Dalzell. "Didn't you say that would put us away at the top in Grammar School baseball?"
"It will help us a long way," assented Dick. "Yet it won't do everything. Each of us has to be as nearly perfect as possible in the position that he has to play. That's why we really need a lot more practice than we've had on the real field."
"The worst of it is" suggested Tom, "that we've got all of the best players in the school on our regular nine, and the scrub nine isn't made up of fellows who can really give us any work."
"Don't croak, Dick," begged Dave. "This day is too perfect to have it spoiled by any calamity howling."
Presently Darrin rolled over on his side once more. Greg took a peep, became suspicious, and started to hum:
"He was the Sleepiest Boy."
Smack! came a small sod, with which Dave had slyly provided himself in advance.
"Ugh! Gr-r-r-r!" sputtered young Holmes, leaping to his feet and spitting out the stuff from his mouth. It was mostly the grass side of the sod that had struck his teeth, but a little of the loam had gone in with it.
"Good enough for me, I suppose," grimaced Greg, seating himself once more when he had cleaned his mouth fairly well. Dave, who had turned over to grin at Greg, soon rolled back to his old posture on the grass.
Greg, however, was not disposed to let the matter pass as easily as the others imagined. Shortly Holmesy jumped astride of Dave and rolled that youth over on to his back.
"I didn't eat all of the sod," young Holmes announced. "You may have the rest, Darry. How does it taste?"
Dave shut his mouth tightly, but Greg held his nostrils. The instant that Darrin opened his mouth for air Holmes rammed in the piece of sod. Then he jumped up, retreating.
It was now Dave's turn to jump up and work vigorously getting the stuff out of his month.
"Tastes immense, doesn't it, Dave?" called Holmes tantalizingly.
No answer in words came from Darrin, but he suddenly wheeled, charging straight at Greg. Doubtless the latter would have gotten out of the way safely, but that Dick thrust out a foot, tripping Dave as he bounded by.
Darrin came down upon his knees. The hotheaded youth was now very close to being angry in earnest.
"Hold up, Dave!" Prescott advised. "You started it, you know. You will have to show that a joke is just as funny whether it's going or coming."
"That's right, old chap," agreed Dave, halting and beginning to cool. "Greg, come here and shake hands."
"You shake hands with Tom," Holmes retorted suspiciously. "I appoint Tom my substitute, with full powers."
"I'd sooner fight Tom than you," mused Dave, gazing down at Reade, who did not appear to be very much disturbed. "Tom is the fellow who's always bringing his appetite along on the finest days that heaven has sent us."
Dick Prescott lazily drew out his watch and glanced at it. Then he rose, remarking:
"You may stay here and get all the comfort you can out of nature, Dave. But it's half past five and I guess the rest of us will want to be nearer to the source of kitchen odors."
"Whew! If it's any such time as that I'm going to move fast," cried Harry Hazelton, leaping to his feet. "At our house supper is on at six o'clock, and anyone