Ralph Henry Barbour

“ I don't mind, Chub, as long as we win."
"Win! Thunder, we aren't going to win! We're going to get everlastingly walloped!"
"No, we're not," answered Roy hopefully. "We're going to win; you see."
"Look here," said Chub after a moment's silence, "you didn't poach on Mercer and I didn't. Who the dickens did?"
"I can't imagine. I dare say it was some fellow from the village."
"With a crimson sweater on? Not likely. I suppose it couldn't have been your sweater, eh?"
Roy shook his head.
"How do you know?" pursued Chub.
"'Cause mine was locked in my trunk." ”

“ Sid shook his head dispiritedly.
"Patten, I s'pose. I think it's a beast of a shame, that's what I think! Take a fellow off the nine just five days before the big game! Of course Hammond'll lick us."
"Sure!" was the concurrent opinion.
"If Patten goes back to first you may get his place at right-field," suggested the youngest boy.
"Maybe I will," answered Sid gloomily, "but who wants to play if Roy's out of it?" ”

“ Roy Porter was on inner bounds for the rest of the term!
"Emmy told him," confided Sid importantly to a group of Juniors and Middlers awaiting the dinner summons on the steps of Burgess, "that if it wasn't for his good record all year he would have suspended him!"
"Gee!" quoth the youngest boy in school, "that's pretty fierce, just for fishing on Sunday!"
"He was poaching," explained Sid. "Anyhow, Emmy says he was. Old Mercer swears he saw him on his place yesterday afternoon. Why, a couple of years ago there was a fellow fired for poaching!" ”