ungry colts.

Yes, it was mighty good to be back again, even though mid-winter exams
were due in a few days. Roy had missed Chub and Jack and the others, and
even his brother's breathless narrative of the Yale-Harvard game from
the point of view of a Crimson right-tackle who had become next year's
captain hadn't seemed half so wonderful as it would have a year before.
Chub's badly-spelled letter regarding the outlook for the Ferry Hill
Hockey Team had been much more interesting.

The rink was flooded that afternoon, a round two dozen boys working with
a will at the pump which drew water from the river and ran it through an
iron pipe into the enclosure. It was a cold day--the thermometer read
eight degrees above at four o'clock--and although the river was frozen
only along the banks and out near Fox Island, there was no doubt but
that they would have a nice sheet of ice for the morrow's practice. Chub
borrowed a thermometer from the kitchen window--without telling anyone
about it--and hung it outside his own casement. Sid solemnly affirmed
that Chub was leaning out of the window reading the thermometer by
moonlight every time he woke up. And as Chub observed scathingly that
Sid was never known to wake up from the time he went to sleep until he
was pulled on to the floor in the morning, Sid's statement doubtless
held some truth. Chub was at Roy's bedside the next morning long before
the rising bell had rung. As he had no business there at that time, he
moved and spoke very cautiously.

"It's four below, Roy!" he whispered.

"Huh?" asked Roy sleepily.

"It's four below zero, you lazy chump!"

"Who? What?"

"The thermometer! What did you think I was talking about?"

"Thought you might mean the dormitory," answered Roy, now thoroughly
awake, drawing the bed clothes closer about him and shivering.

"Pshaw, you're not cold! Come on; get up."

"Bell rung?"

"No, but it will in a minute."

"Then you'd better sneak out of here before Cobb sees you. There's
Ferris got his eye on you now."

"If he tells on me I'll break his neck," answered Chub from between
chattering teeth. "What time is practice?"

"Four o'clock."

"All right. Guess I'll sneak back. I'm going to play cover-point, eh?"

"Yes, I guess so--as long as you last."

Then he dived under the clothes for protection.

That afternoon the hockey team got down to real business. It was rather
confused business, to be sure, for many of the two dozen candid