For the Honor of Randall Part 52

"Are we going to have a boat crew?" inquired Tom.

"There's talk of it," was the answer.

And what Randall's crew did may be learned by reading the next book of this series, to be ent.i.tled "The Eight-Oared Victors; A Story of College Water Sports." In that we will meet all our old friends once more.

It was several days later. The celebrations of Randall's track and field victory were about over, and the diamond was beginning to take on an unusually active appearance.

One evening, in the room of the inseparables, the four chums sat in silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock, or the creak of the old sofa, or easy chair.

Frank walked over to the table, and began writing.

"It's to a girl," said Phil, in a low voice as he heard the scratching of his friend's pen.

"What of it?" snapped the big Californian. "I guess you would write too if you wanted to."

"Guess I will," decided Phil, and soon four pens were scratching.

"Well, for cats' sake, what's this?" demanded Dutch Housenlager, a little later, as he came into the room. "Is it a new literary club that I've stacked up against?"

"Something like it," remarked Tom, as he began on his fourth page.

"Hey, what rhymes with dove?" asked Sid dreamily.

"Love, you old moon-calf!" grunted Dutch, as he backed out. "Say, when you fellows get over being spoony, come out and have some fun," he added closing the door. And the scratching of the four pens went on.

THE END