Part 40 (2/2)

”What's up?” they cried together.

Tom was aware that the dark figure which he had seen underneath the window was jumping toward him. The light of the lantern shone full on Tom's face. He was in the act of struggling to his feet when he felt some one kick him in the side, and as the toe of a heavy shoe came against his right elbow with crus.h.i.+ng force the pain made Tom cry out.

The lantern swung in a circle and by the light of it Tom, glancing up, saw Langridge standing over him. It was he who had administered the kick. Then the light appeared to fade away, and Tom felt a strangely dizzy feeling. He seemed to be sinking into a bottomless pit.

CHAPTER XXIX

ANTIc.i.p.aTIONS

Tom became dimly aware that he was climbing up from some great depth. It was hard work, and he felt as if he was lifting the whole world on his shoulders. No, it was all on one arm--his right--and the pain of it made him wince.

Then he realized that some one was calling him, shaking him, and he felt as if he had tumbled, head first, into some snow drift.

”Wake up, Tom! Are you all right, old man? What happened? Here, swallow some more water.”

He opened his eyes. He saw in the darkness some one bending over him.

”What's the--where am----” he began, and he was again seized with a feeling of weakness.

”You're all right, old chap,” he heard some one saying. ”You had a bad fall, that's all.”

”Phil!” he exclaimed.

”Yes, it's me, Clinton. They tried to put me in there, but I fought 'em, and then there came a yell for help for the sophs who were bringing up a lot of our fellows, and the ones who had me and those on guard cut for it. I guess our lads got away. I heard a row back here and came to see what it was. Are you all right now? Can you walk? If you can, we'll go on to the dinner. We've beaten out the sophs. Can you manage?”

”I--I guess so,” replied Tom, who was feeling stronger every moment. If only that terrible pain in his arm would cease. ”Where's Langridge?” he asked.

”Langridge? He isn't around. I haven't seen him to-night at all,”

answered Clinton. ”Feeling better?”

”Yes, I'm all right. Only my arm.”

”Is it broken?”

”No, only bruised. Some one kicked--I guess I must have fallen on it,”

Tom corrected himself quickly. His mind was in a tumult over what had happened. He had seen Langridge plainly in the light of a lantern carried by one of the soph.o.m.ores, and he felt that Langridge must have seen him, for the gleam struck full on his face. Yet why had the 'varsity pitcher attacked Tom? Could he have mistaken him for a soph.o.m.ore? Tom hardly thought so, yet the kick had been a savage one.

His arm was swelling from it.

”Are you sure they didn't catch Langridge?” asked Tom as he stumbled on beside Phil.

”Sure. He said he wasn't going to the dinner at all. Had a date in town with some girl, I believe.” Tom winced, not altogether with pain. ”Why are you so anxious about Langridge?” went on Phil.

”Nothing, only--only I thought I saw him around the shack.”

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