There was something rather strange about Langridge. His eyes seemed very bright and his cheeks were flushed. He evidently took Tom's acquiescence as an indication that the country lad was willing to have fun poked at him. "I suppose you got lots of letters from the pretty country lasses, enclosing locks of their red hair," sneered Langridge. "You bet I did," exclaimed Tom, still imitating a farmer's peculiarities, "but I want to tell ye suthin', an' when you come out Northville way, mebby you'll remember it." Then, suddenly becoming serious and with a change in his manner, he added: "I also used to get letters from gentlemen, but I don't believe you could write me one!" There was a snap in his words. "What--what's that?" cried Langridge, taking a step toward Tom. "You heard what I said," was the retort. "That's the time you got yours all right, Langridge," exclaimed Phil Clinton. "You can't tell by the looks of a haystack how far a cow can jump, you know." Langridge fairly glared at Tom. He seemed to want to make some reply, but the words stuck in his throat. "I'll--I'll get----" he stammered, and then, turning on his heel, he linked his arm in that of Kerr and the two started off down the street. "You held you own that time, Tom," said Sid as a little later they followed. "Yes, I don't mind a joke, but he went a little too far. My people live in the country, and I'm proud of it, and proud of all my friends in Northville. But come on, let's get back to our room. I've got some studying to do." CHAPTER VIII AT PRACTICE Following the exciting scenes of the pole rush it was rather difficult for any of the lads to settle down to study that night, but for some it was a necessity, and Tom and Sid were in this number. Tom, by reason of missing the first week of the term, was a little behind his class, but he was a fine student, and the instructor saw that there would be no trouble for the lad in covering the lost ground. With Sid it was another matter. Though faithful and earnest, studying did not come easy for him, and, as he expressed it, he had to "bone away like a ground hog" to get facts and dates fixed in his mind. Consequently, because of the evening of fun, ten o'clock saw Sid and Tom busy in their room over their books. For an hour or more nothing was heard but the occasional turning of the pages or the noise of a pencil being rapidly pushed across the paper. At length Tom, with a sigh of relief, closed his chemistry and remarked: "There, I guess that will do for to-night. My eyes are tired." "So are mine," added Sid. "I'm going to kiss this Latin prose good-night and put it to bed," and he threw the book under his cot. "Pleasant dreams," he added sarcastically. "Gee! but I hate Latin," he exclaimed. "Why do you take it?" "Oh, dad thinks I'll need it. I'd a heap sight rather learn to play the banjo." "Not much comparison there, Sid."