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“Don’t overtax that giant intellect of yours, old thing. It’s too hot. Wonder where the crowd is. You don’t suppose those fellows are all that are going to report?”

“It’s not three yet. Probably the rest of them preferred to stay sensibly in the shade while they had the chance. Wish I had! Arn, is that what’s-his-name over there?”

“No, that’s thingumbob. Whom do you mean?”

“The little man in the blue sweater-coat talking to Fanning. See him?”

“Yes. I guess it must be. Isn’t very big, is he? Fan said last night, though, that he talked a heap of sense. I’m going over. Come along and meet him.”

“No, thanks. I’ll wait here.”

Arnold left him by the corner of the old grandstand and made his way toward where the new coach was in conversation with Captain Fanning. Toby saw Fanning introduce Arnold to Mr. Lyle and saw the two shake hands. Then something broad and heavy smote him disconcertingly between his shoulders and he swung around to find Sid Creel’s grinning, moon-like countenance before him.