CHAPTER XIX
SUSPICIONS
"Has anyone seen my hammer?"
"Where the mischief did I put those nails?"
"Hey, Tom, give us a hand setting this joist, will you?"
"I say, Phil, should this two-by-four go in with the big side out, or the narrow?"
"Simpson, look out, or you'll saw my finger. You're too close to me."
"Wow! Ouch!" and Holly Cross dropped the hatchet he was using in place of a hammer, and held his thumb in his mouth. "Jerusalem crickets!" he cried, "I'll never be able to practice football if I keep on this way!"
There was a riot of sounds: hammering, planing, and chiseling, and sawing; and, mingled with them, the clatter of the lads' voices, in entreaties, commands, appeals for help, asking for advice, or, as Holly's was, raised in agony over some misdirected blow.
Work on rebuilding the grandstand was in full
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