Part 13 (1/2)
”I suppose you got lots of letters from the pretty country la.s.ses, 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 cla.s.s, 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.”
”No, but don't mention comparison. That reminds me of grammar, and grammar reminds me of verbs, and verbs naturally bring to mind declension, and--there you are. Let's talk about something pleasant.”
”What do you call pleasant?”
”Well, baseball, for instance, though maybe that isn't very pleasant for you, since you didn't make the first team.”
”No,” admitted Tom frankly, ”it isn't pleasant to think about. I did want to get on the first team and I may yet. But I've learned one thing since coming here.”
”That's good. Maybe I'd better call up Moses and tell him. He'll feel encouraged that some of the students are progressing.”
”No, I wouldn't advise you to do that,” spoke Tom with a laugh that showed his white, even teeth. ”In fact, what I've learned didn't have much to do with books.”
”What was it?”