"Well, all I've got to say is that I give up," and Sid, with a helpless look, flung himself down on the sofa and turned his back on his chums. "Next you know you'll be playing tennis or croquet instead of football. You make me sick! I tell you what it is, if you put any more of those tomfool decorations, like flags and photographs, in this room, I'm going to quit!" and Sid spoke earnestly. "Aw, forget it, you old misanthropic specimen of a misogynist!" exclaimed Phil with a laugh. "You'll be there yourself some day, and then you'll see how it is." "Say, you talk as if you had a girl, too!" cried Sid, sitting up again and looking fixedly at Phil. "Maybe I have," was the noncommittal answer. "Then you've gone back on me, too," was what Sid said, as he pretended to go to sleep. It was quiet in the room for a while, each lad busy with his thoughts. Who shall say what they were? One thing is certain--that the gazes of Tom and Phil often traveled to the wall on which were the photographs of two girls--Madge and Ruth. Tom looked at both; but Phil--well, did you ever know a fellow, no matter how nice a sister he had, to care to steal surreptitious glances at her picture? Did you? Well, that's all I'm going to say now. The fussy little alarm clock ticked monotonously on, as if anxious to get its work done. Still neither of the three chums spoke. Occasionally Sid would shift his position, but he did not open his eyes. Tom sometimes looked at the liniment stain in the carpet, and then at the ink spot. "It's a wonder you wouldn't get a blotter and sop up some of that writing fluid," suggested Phil to Tom at last. "Why don't you do it yourself?" was the retort. "You knocked it over." "I'm too comfortable," murmured Phil from the depths of the chair. "Humph!" grunted Tom. Then there was silence once more. "How's your hand, Sid?" asked Tom, when the clock had ticked off what seemed to the lads about a million strokes. "A little better. That's the worst thing I ever had happen to me," and Sid looked at his stiffened fingers. "I don't know what you fellows are going to do, but I'm going to bed!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I'm sleepy." "Come on out and take a walk," proposed Tom to Phil. "I'm stiff and lame. Maybe I can walk it off. Then we'll take a hot bath in the gym and turn in." "That sounds good," agreed Phil. "I'll go you." They left Sid undressing and went out, it not being a proscribed hour. After a brisk walk around the campus they started for the gymnasium. As they neared it they heard voices coming from the direction of Biology Hall, a small building situated to the right of their dormitory. "Now, then, hold him, Gerhart, while I clip him two or three good ones!" they heard some one say, and immediately after that came in pleading tones: "Oh, please don't hit me again, Mr. Langridge. I did the best I could for you." "The best, you little rat! You didn't get the stuff I sent you for!" exclaimed Langridge angrily.