For the Honor of Randall Part 6

"Doing the virtuous--boning Latin."

"Like Caesar!" exploded Sid.

"No, Cicero," said Holly gravely. "Vandal, to doubt the word of your betters!"

"Oh cheese it, Holly. You----" began Phil, but the warning bell ushered them into the sacred precincts of the chapel, over the exercises of which Dr. Churchill presided with his usual solemnity.

"There's Shambler," spoke Tom in a low voice to Sid, as the four filed out, soon to separate in order to attend different cla.s.ses.

"Who, that big chap with the red cap?"

"That's the fellow!"

"Looks as though he had plenty of bone and muscle," commented Frank.

"He's coming over here," went on Tom. "We'll have to be decent to him, I s'pose."

Shambler approached. There was a certain breezy air about him, a good-natured manner, and a seeming feeling of confidence, that, while it might be all right, once you had made friends with him, yet was rather antagonizing at first appearance. It was as if the new student took too much for granted, and this is never overlooked among college lads.

Shambler nodded to Tom, in what he meant to be a friendly fas.h.i.+on, and began to keep step with him. Then he spoke.

"I say, I didn't know it was the fas.h.i.+on at Randall for everybody to go to bed with the chickens."

"It isn't," said Tom shortly.

"It seems so," was the rejoinder. "I was out for a lark last night, and I couldn't find anyone from around here to have fun with. I went past your room and it was as dark as a pocket--you're on my corridor; aren't you--sixty-eight?"

Tom nodded.

"Well, you certainly were sporting your oak. Did you hear the run-in I had with a monitor? Beastly fresh. I made out all right, fooled the proc. good and proper. I wish you had been along. Are these your friends?"

Shambler included Sid, Phil and Frank, in a comprehensive wave of his hand, and there was no choice but for Tom to introduce them, which he did with the best grace possible.

"Glad to meet you!" exclaimed Shambler, holding out a muscular hand. "I hear you're in the athletic set. That's where I want to get, too, though I'm fond of a good time, and not too much training. I had bully fun last night. Met some fellows from Boxer Hall, and we stayed in town quite late. Don't you ever hit it up?"

"Not very often," replied Sid, a bit coldly. "Well," he added, "I'm going to leave you fellows. I've got a lecture on."

"So have I," added Tom, and, not to his very great pleasure, Shambler linked his arm in that of the pitcher's, and walked off with him, remarking:

"I'm due for the same thing, old man. Do you mind if I sit with you? I'd be glad if you'd give me a few pointers. They do things a bit differently at the lectures here than at Harkness, where I came from. The old man's business changed, and I had to come here. How about cutting lectures?"

"It can be done," spoke Tom coldly, for it was not his habit to indulge in this practice. There were a few other commonplace remarks, and then the college day fairly began.

Not until that afternoon did Tom meet his three chums again, and then, in coming from the last lecture of the day, he heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Shambler hurrying to catch up to him.

"I say!" began the new student. "I meant to tell you. I met some fine chaps last night from Boxer Hall. They're coming over this afternoon to call for me. I was wondering whether you and your chums wouldn't like to come out with us. We're going to hire a drag and take a ride."

"I don't know," began Tom. He appreciated the spirit in which Shambler gave the invitation, and yet he did not altogether like the fellow.

Besides, he did not want to break up the pleasant relations so long existing among the inseparables, and he knew that spirit would vanish if a fifth member was introduced.

Still he did not quite see how he could "shake" Shambler. Ahead of him Tom saw Sid, Phil and Frank waiting for him, and on their faces he detected a look of annoyance, as they beheld his companion. But the problem was solved for him.

"By Jove! There are the Boxer Hall boys now!" cried Shambler, waving his hands to some youths who were discernable on the far side of the big campus. "Come on over, and we'll have some fun."

Tom took one look at the two newcomers. In an instant he recognized them as the enemies of himself and his chums--Fred Langridge and his crony, Garvey Gerhart.

"I--I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me," murmured Tom.

"Why--what's wrong?" asked Shambler, curiously.

"Well, the fact of the matter is that your new friends would hardly thank you for bringing us together," answered Tom simply, as he swung off and joined his chums, leaving a rather mystified student standing staring after him.

CHAPTER V

IN "PITCHFORK'S" PLACE

"Well I say now! I wonder what's up? Could I have----" Thus began Shambler to commune with himself as he watched Tom. "Something's wrong.

He doesn't like Langridge and Gerhart, that's evident. I must find out about this."

Which he very soon did, after a short talk with his new chums, and my readers may be sure that Tom and his friends did not get any of the best of the showing, in the account Langridge and his crony gave of their affair, and the reasons for their withdrawal to Boxer Hall, told of in a previous volume of this series.

"Humph! If that's the kind of lads they are I don't want anything to do with them," said Shambler, as he gazed after the retreating inseparables, following the tale of Langridge and Gerhart.

"They're not our style at all," declared Langridge with a sneer. "Still, don't let us keep you from them, if you'd rather train in their camp."

"Oh, I'm out for a good time!" declared Shambler boastfully. "I only tried to get in with them as I heard they were in the athletic crowd, and----"

"Hot athletes they are!" sneered Gerhart. "Say, if this talked-of an all-around athletic contest comes off this Spring, and our college goes in for it, we'll wipe up the field with Randall, and Fairview too. They won't know they started. I don't see why you didn't come to Boxer Hall, Shambler."

"I wish I had, but it's too late now. But say, I'm going in for athletics, even if you fellows think you can do us up. I don't have to train with the Parsons crowd to do it though."

"No," admitted Langridge. "And so you offered to introduce Tom Parsons to us. Ha! Ha! No wonder he s.h.i.+ed off!" and he laughed sneeringly. "But, if we're going to town, come on before it gets too late." And with that the trio swung off toward the trolley line that would take them to Haddonfield.

Meanwhile Tom and his chums tramped over the snow-covered campus, idly kicking the white flakes aside.

"Doesn't look much like baseball; does it?" remarked Tom, as he made a s...o...b..ll, and tossed it high in the air.

"No, but it can't last forever," declared Sid. "I say, did any of you hear anything more about having a track team, and going in for field athletics this Spring?"

"Only general talk," replied Phil.

"There goes Dutch Housenlager," spoke Frank. "Let's see if he knows anything."

"He's got his back turned," whispered Tom. "It's a good chance to play a joke on him. Get in front of him, Sid, and be talking to him. I'll sneak up, and kneel down in back. Then give him a gentle push and he'll upset and turn a somersault over me."