"He pulled me out and locked the door, and said, as quietly as if he were talking about a common bug, that he was going to wait a day or two and see if they were coming round. If they didn't, he'd give 'em the snake; he didn't know how yet, but they'd surely get it. Then he wanted me to promise not to let on about it to any one."
"Did you promise?"
Simmons straightened up. "No, I didn't," he declared proudly. "I just let him know what I thought of him and cleared out!"
"You told Duncan about it, didn't you?" asked Rob.
"Yes; how did you know?"
"I could see it in his face when he was here a few minutes ago. You'd better not worry over it. Payner wouldn't put a snake like that into their room."
"Oh, yes, he would," answered Simmons, wisely, with a doleful shake of his head. "You don't know that fellow. He's all right if you let him alone; but when he's mad, he's terrible. Why, he doesn't care any more for a snake like that than I do for an angleworm!"
It was nearly time for dinner, and as both preferred to be on hand at Alumni when the doors were opened, the conversation came to an end. Rob half resolved to have a serious talk with the Pecks that evening and see if he could not induce them to put an end to the unseemly feud. But after dinner he was unexpectedly called to a baseball meeting, and after that there were two lessons to prepare; so it happened that with his work and his natural weariness from the game, and the excitement of his new prospects, he forgot completely the Pecks and Payner and the snake.
But Duncan did not forget. He was thoroughly sick of the whole affair. Of what use was it to be off study hours, if one must forever be watching and dodging and locking up, never free from fear and never able to placate the enemy? Why must he suffer because Don was a mule? And the big snake! He shuddered at the thought of the coiling, crawling thing. He began to see it in the dark corners, to hear it in the rustle of papers on the floor. It was like a waking nightmare.