"Why, you little freshie," exclaimed Phil, "fair fights are the only kind we have at Randall! We don't have 'em very often, but every time we do Tom puts the kibosh all over your friend Langridge. Another thing--it isn't healthy for freshies to bet too much. They might go broke," and with these words of advice Phil caught up his end of the sofa and Tom the other. It was soon in the room the three sophomore chums had selected. "Now for the chair and the rest of the truck," called Phil. "Oh, let's rest a bit," suggested Sid, as he stretched out on the sofa. No sooner had he reached a reclining position than he sat up suddenly. "Wow!" he cried. "What in the name of the labors of Hercules is that?" He drew from the back of his coat a long nail. "Why, I must have left it on the sofa when I fixed it," said Phil innocently. "I wondered what had become of it." "You needn't wonder any longer," spoke Sid ruefully. "Tom, take a look, that's a good chap, and see if there's a very big hole in my back. I think my lungs are punctured." "Not a bit of it, from the way you let out that yell," said Phil. "That will teach you not to take a siesta during moving operations." "Not much damage done," Tom reported with a laugh, as he inspected his chum's coat. "Come on now, let's get the rest of it done." "Do you think it will be safe to leave the sofa here?" asked Sid. "Perhaps I'd better stay and keep guard over it, while you fellows fetch the rest of the things in." "Well, listen to him!" burst out Phil. "What harm will come to it here?" "Why, Langridge and that sporty new chum of his may slip in and damage it." "Say, if they can damage this sofa any more than it is now, I'd like to see them," spoke Tom. "I defy even the fingers of Father Time himself to work further havoc. No, most noble Anthony, the sofa will be perfectly safe here." "I wouldn't say as much for you, if Langridge gets a chance at you," said Phil to Tom. "You know what tricks he played on you last term." "Yes; but I guess he's had his lesson," remarked Tom. "Now come on, and we'll finish up." The three lads went back to the room formerly occupied by Sid and Tom during their freshman year. The chums were pretty much of a size, and they made an interesting picture as they strolled across the campus. Tom Parsons had come to Randall College the term previous, from the town of Northville, where his parents lived. He did not care to follow his father's occupation of farming, and so had decided on a college education, using part of his own money to pay his way. As told in the first volume of this series, entitled "The Rival Pitchers," Tom had no sooner reached Randall than he incurred the enmity of Fred Langridge, a rich youth from Chicago, who was manager of the 'varsity ball nine, and also its pitcher. Tom had ambitions to fill that position himself, and as soon as Langridge learned this, he was more than ever the enemy of the country lad.