For the Honor of Randall Part 8

"It was the catapult," explained Dutch. "I--er----" he choked out.

Then the professor seemed to understand.

"Oh--ink!" he said, innocently. "You used the inkwell."

"Yes," a.s.sented Dutch. "I--er--put the bottle on the ruler, instead of the rock. I----"

"I understand," interrupted the subst.i.tute Latin instructor. "It is too bad. How did you come to make that mistake, Housenlager?"

Once more the cla.s.s laughed, and the lads were not restrained.

"You had better go to the lavatory, and wash," went on the instructor.

"And I think you all have, by this time, a better idea of a catapult than you had before, even though the wrong sort of missile was used. We will now proceed with the lesson."

It might fairly be presumed that not as much attention was paid to the following instruction as was needed, but, at the same time, there was an excuse. Dutch came back to the cla.s.s toward the end of the recitation, with a clean collar and a different necktie, and when the lecture was over he did not join in the mirth of his fellow students.

"Dutch was in bad that time, all right," remarked Sid with a laugh, as the lads strolled out on the campus.

"A regular fountain pen," commented Tom.

"Want a blotter?" asked Phil, offering a bit of paper.

"Or a pen wiper?" added Frank. "Say, how did you come to make such a mistake, Dutch?"

"Oh, let up, will you?" begged the badgered one. "It wasn't any mistake.

I thought he'd get the ink instead of me."

"And he changed places with you," interposed Tom. "Well, mistakes will happen, in the best of regulated cla.s.ses."

"Oh say!" began Dutch. Then, despairing of changing the subject, unless he took drastic measures, he added: "How about coasting again to-night?"

"Say, I believe it would be sport!" chimed in Tom. "It's getting warm, and the snow won't last much longer. Let's get up a crowd, and go out on the hill."

The idea met with favor at once, and soon plans were being made for a merry time.

"Telephone over to Fairview, and get your sister and her crowd, Phil,"

suggested Sid.

"Listen to the lady-killer!" jeered Tom.

"Oh, let up," importuned Sid. "I guess I've got as much right as you fellows."

"That's the stuff! Stick up for your rights!" cried Frank.

Though the moon was not as glorious as on the previous evening, the night was a fine one, and a merry party of young men and maidens gathered on the hill with big bobs, the gongs of which made clamorous music, amid the shouts and laughter.

There were several cliques of students, but Tom and his crowd, with Phil's sister and the girls who were her chums, clung together and had many a swift coast. It was when several were thinking of starting for home that a party of lads, with a fine, big bob appeared on the hill.

"Who wants a ride?" challenged the leader, whom Tom recognized as Shambler. "Come on, girls," he went on, addressing Ruth Clinton, with easy familiarity. "Get on, we'll give you a good coast."

"We don't care to," said Ruth, turning aside.

"Oh, it's perfectly safe," insisted Shambler. "Come on! Be sports. Here, Gerhart--Langridge, help the girls on!"

"They don't need any help!" suddenly exclaimed Tom, stepping between Shambler and Ruth.

"How do you know--are you their manager?" asked the new student with a sneer.

"No--but I'm her brother," interposed Phil. "Come on, Ruth, we'll walk part way with you." He linked his arm in hers, Phil and his chums began dragging their bob away, followed by Madge Tyler, Mabel Harrison and Helen Newton.

"Humph!" sneered Shambler, audibly. "I guess we got in wrong with that bunch, fellows."

"Forget it," advised Langridge. "There are other girls on the hill, and it's early yet."

And that night, as the four chums tumbled into bed, though they did not speak of it, each one had an uneasy feeling about Shambler. It was as if a disrupting spirit had, somehow, crept into Randall.

If further evidence was needed of the pushing, and self-interested spirit of Shambler the four chums had it supplied to them a little later, at an informal dance to which they were bidden at Fairview.

Tom and Phil came in from a walk one afternoon, to find Sid and Frank eagerly waiting for them in the room. No sooner had the two entered, than Frank burst out with:

"Come on, fellows, open yours, and see if they are the same as ours."

"Open what?" asked Tom, looking about the room. "You don't mean to say some one has sent me a prize package; do you?"

"Or maybe Moses has sent in to say that I don't need to study any more; that I've done so well that I'm to be excused from all lectures, and that my diploma is waiting for me," spoke Phil mockingly. "Don't tell me that, fellows; remember I have a weak heart."

"It's the invitations!" exclaimed Sid. "At least I think that's what they are. We got 'em, and here are two letters--one for you, Tom, and one for Phil. Come on, open 'em, and we'll answer, and go together."

"Go where?" demanded Tom. "Say, what's this all about, anyhow? What's going on?"

"They're all excited over it," added Phil. "Like children."

"Oh! for cats' sake open 'em, and don't keep us waiting," begged Frank, as he reached for two envelopes that lay on the table. The missives unmistakably bore evidence of being "party bids," but Tom kept up the tantalizing tactics a little longer, by turning his over from side to side, pretending to scrutinize the postmark, and then ended by gently smelling of the delicate perfume that emanated from it.

"Smells good enough to eat," he said, while Phil was tearing his open.

"It's an invitation all right," remarked Ruth's brother. "The girls are to give a little dance to-morrow night. Shall we go?"

"Well, rather!" exclaimed Sid quickly.

"Listen to him," mocked Tom. "About a year ago he would no more think of going where the girls were than he would of taking in a lecture on the dead Romans. But now. Oh shades of Apollo! You can't keep him home!"

"Oh, dry up!" exclaimed Sid.

"Humph!" mused Phil. "I suppose we _can_ go."

"Sure; it'll be fun," agreed Frank.

"How about you, Tom?" asked Sid. "You're coming, aren't you?"