“Oh, I’m not going to back out!” cried Jack quickly. “Don’t imagine that for a second. Only this is a serious matter.”
“I know it,” admitted Tom, quietly. “And it’s a serious matter to be treated as we have been treated in class nearly every day by Professor Skeel. I’m tired of being bullyragged. This strike is for principle, not for any material advantage.
“But, anyhow, if they do suspend us it can’t last for long. Why, nearly every Freshman is in with us. That is, all but those who don’t like Latin, and they’re mighty scarce.
“Now practically the whole Freshman class of a college can’t be suspended for any great length of time, and the ban will soon be raised.”
“You mean we’ll win?” asked Bert Wilson.
“Of course we will!” declared Tom stoutly, “and the lessons we miss, if we are suspended, we can easily make up. But I don’t believe Merry will suspend us.”
There were various opinions about this, and the talk became general as the boys separated, going their different ways. Tom and a group of his particular chums went to his room.
“We ought to do something to celebrate this strike,” declared Jack, when there was a lull in the talk.
“That’s right!” cried Tom. “I’m for something to eat. I’m going to give a little dinner here to as many as we can crowd in. Let’s get busy, Jack.”
“A spread!” cried Tom’s chum. “Where are the eats to come from?”