Page:The Winning Touchdown.djvu/286

270 his hand went under the seat, and began feeling there. Tom leaped up, raising more dust a regular cloud.

"What's the matter? A pin stick you?" asked Sid.

"A pin? No. But, say, fellows, this isn't our chair!"

"Not our chair?" echoed Phil.

"Not—not" faltered Sid.

"Not our chair!" exclaimed Tom, decidedly, as he sat down in it again. "Here, Phil, you try it. It looks like our chair, and it's built like it—upholstery and all—it's a dead ringer, in fact, but it's not ours!" and Tom moved aside while Phil ready to make the test.