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“Funny, Sid; there were only about eighty of us the first day!”

“Well, I didn’t know you then, Toby. Why don’t you try again? Didn’t you like it?”

“I don’t know. Guess I didn’t have time to find out whether I did or didn’t. They said I was too light and fired me after three or four days.”

“Well, you certainly have enough weight now. Come on and join the goats. It’s lots of fun. You get action, son, and it lets you out of gymnasium work while you’re at it. That’s something! Come on!”

Toby smiled and shook his head. “Guess not, thanks. I never would make a football player.”

“You? You’re just the kind, Toby. You’re quick and you’ve got a good head, and you’re built right, too. Wish I had your build. Only thing I’m good for is center or, maybe, guard. I’m too bulky. It isn’t all fat, though, believe thou me. Feel them here biceps, son, if you doubt my word.”

“I kind of envied you your fat—I mean your muscular bulk, Sid—last winter,” answered Toby. “You could fall flat on the ice without hurting yourself. You just kind of bounced up and down a few times and didn’t mind it. When I fell I felt it!”