Page:The Winning Touchdown.djvu/127

Rh "Aw, rats!" fired back Dutch, as he and his chum went down the corridor.

"Say, maybe there's more truth than poetry in what you said," commented Phil, after the door had been closed.

"In what?" asked Sid.

"About those fellows being sorry. You know, Simpson is a husky lad, and he may put up more of a fight than they give him credit for."

"By Jove!" cried Tom, suddenly. "I believe you're right, Phil. Those hazers are going to stack up against trouble, and what's the matter with us seing [sic] the fun?"

"How?" asked Sid.

"Go down to the river, and watch 'em throw Frank in."

"Sure!" cried Phil; and a little later three figures stole cautiously out, crossed the campus, and took position well concealed in the now leafless shrubbery that lined the bank of the stream.

"Here they come!" suddenly exclaimed Tom, who had constituted himself a lookout. "And they've got him, too!"

"How can you tell?" demanded Phil.

"He's the biggest fellow in the bunch."

"I didn't think he'd let them take him out of his room," said Sid. "Maybe he's in a blue funk."

"You don't know him," declared Tom, quietly. "If I'm not mistaken, there'll be some fun soon."