Football -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- Juvenile fiction
“I won’t, I tell you. I’m not going to break my bones for you. I’ve
done as much as any of the others already, and I don’t intend to get
all lamed up.”
“That’s right, Hop,” said Rob, and some of the others agreed. But
Hopkins wasn’t ready to let go.
“You dry up, Rob!” he snarled. “You haven’t got anything to say about
this. You haven’t any business in here anyhow; you’re a junior. This is
upper class, and so you shut up.”
“You can make me, I guess――not,” drawled Rob.
“There are plenty of us here to run you out of the room,” answered
Hopkins angrily.
“All right, come try it. Let’s have a little rough-house,” replied Rob
smilingly. But there was an expression about his eyes and mouth that
Hop didn’t just like, and while he was hesitating some of the others
broke in.
“Oh, cut out the slanging!”
“Shut up, Lanky!”
“Go ahead with the show, Hop!”
Hopkins glared angrily at Rob and then turned his attention again to
Evan.
“Come on, fresh kid,” he commanded. “Do as we tell you.”
“I’m through,” said Evan quietly.
“Then we’ll make you! Put him over there, Prentiss.”
“Better not try it,” said Evan as the tall Prentiss came toward him. He
was still smiling, but the smile was rather set and his eyes were fixed
very steadily on Prentiss. Also, he stepped back and clenched his fists
in a very business-like way. But Prentiss was no coward, and, besides,
he was much bigger than Evan. There might have been real trouble in
another moment had not the light suddenly gone out, plunging the room
into complete darkness. A howl of laughter went up and good-natured
rough-house began as the fellows swarmed from their places. Some
one found the foot-ball and it went banging about in the darkness
regardless of heads.
“Light! Let there be light!”
“I want to go home!”
“Look out for the table, fellows!”
And above the pandemonium could be heard Hopkins angrily demanding that
some one turn the light on again. Evan, in the thick of the swaying,
laughing throng, felt a hand on his arm.
“This you, Evan?” whispered Rob’s voice.
“Yes.”
“This way then, quietly. Make for the door.” Evan followed and in
another moment they were in the dimly-lighted hall running for their
room. Once inside Rob bolted the door and closed the transom. Then,
much pleased with his strategy, he sat down on his bed and chuckled.
From the other end of the hall came the sound of stampeding youths and
from the floor below Mr. McGill’s deep voice:
“Fellows, be quiet up there! Go to your rooms!”
CHAPTER VII
UP THE MOUNTAIN
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account