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I believe I was half drunk. I can't stand anything. I'm sick, sick of myself, too, this morning. And I hate Graves." Ken jumped up with kindling eyes. "Kel, you've gone back on me we'd started to be such friends I tried to persuade you " "I know. I'm sorry, Ken. But I really liked you best. I was you know how it is, Ken. If only Worry don't find it out!" "Tell him," said Ken, quickly.
"Some mushis wont haw mass because the pal or pen that mullered was kammaben to it, some wont pi levinor for panj or ten besh, some wont haw the kammaben matcho that the chavo hawed. "Some won't kair wardos or kil the boshomengro 'that's mandy's pooro chavo's gilli' and some won't kel. 'No, I can't kel, the last time I kelled was with mandy's poor juvo that's been mullo this shtor besh.
"Kel, I haven't liked your looks at all," said Ken, apologetically. "Ken, I've been going to lick you all spring." They went down-stairs arm in arm. It was with great interest and curiosity that Ken looked about the cozy and comfortable rooms. The walls were adorned with pictures of varsity teams and players, and the college colors were much in evidence.
Looks like you ain't got the nerve to hit anything that's comin' for you. You sorter confines your slaughter to harmless cayuses and such." "Guess again," said Lewis, unmoved. "I thought I could stand the Swede off, that's why. I shot two foot high on purpose." "You kel my Olga!" shouted Oscar. "Yust wait, you faller. Ay gat my goose gun, and Ay blow you all to hal! By Yudas, Ay gat skvare kvick!"
"Ken Graves," pleaded Raymond, white as a sheet. "Don't please!" He turned from one to the other. "Don't scrap!" "Graves, it's up to some one to call you, and I'm going to do it," said Ken, passionately. "You've been after me all season, but I wouldn't care for that. It's your rotten influence on Kel and the other boys that makes me wild. You are the drag in this baseball team.
"Kel, a first-rate stewing will be good for your daily grouch." To the accompaniment of Raymond's threats he turned the second handle. "Trace, you little poll-parrot, you will throw perfume on me? Now roast!" The heads of the imprisoned boys began to jerk and bob around, and their faces to take on a flush. Ken leisurely surveyed them and then did an Indian war-dance in the middle of the room.
Ken let him in and they held a whispered consultation. "Let's see," said Reddy, picking up the sweater. "It's going to be an all-fired hard job. This sweater's tight. We'll wake him." "Not on your life!" exclaimed Ken. "Not if we're quick. Now you roll up the sweater so and stretch it on your hands so and when I lift Kel up you slip it over his head. It'll be like pie."
Then all that seemed cheering, din, and stamping roar deadened in an earth-shaking sound like an avalanche. The students piled out of the bleachers in streams and poured on the field. An irresistible, hungry, clamoring flood, they submerged the players. Up went Ken upon sturdy shoulders, and up went Reddy Ray and Kel and Homans and Dean all the team, and last the red-faced Worry Arthurs.
One night Graves took cigarettes from his pocket and offered them to Kel, Trace, and Ken, who all happened to be in Ken's room at the time. Trace readily accepted; Kel demurred at first, but finally took one. Graves then tossed the pack to Ken. "No, I don't smoke. Besides, it's breaking training," said Ken. "You make me sick, Ward," retorted Graves. "You're a wet blanket.
Barth sat at the great screen, watching as they drew on steadily toward the rendezvous, mulling over his plans. They were three hours out from Kel when he turned the control over to his lieutenant and went below, where his table was laden with the smoking cheer of good green meat and ale. With a sigh of contentment, he threw back his outer robe and prepared to forget everything until he had dined.
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