“Get away from that pole! Let me take that disgraceful image down! I shall insist upon the most severe punishment to every one concerned in this outrage!” stormed Professor Skeel.
“Stick to your posts!” cried Tom.
“As for you, Fairfield!” shouted the professor. “This will be your last appearance here! You incited the students to do this!”
“Correct guess!” whispered Jack with a grin.
Professor Skeel did not find it as easy as he had thought, to thrust the lads away from the pole, so that he might loose the ropes. As fast as he shoved one lad aside, in which operation no active resistance was offered, another Freshman took his place, and there was a constant shifting and whirling mass of students about the pole. It was utterly impossible for the professor to get to the ropes.
“This must stop! It shall stop!” he cried. “I—I shall be under the necessity of personally chastising you if you do not at once remove the image!” he added.
“Stick, boys!” sung out Tom.
“Then take the consequences,” shouted the instructor. He struck one of the smaller lads, who drew back his fist. In another moment there would have been presented the not very edifying sight of an encounter between teacher and pupil.
But Professor Skeel found himself suddenly clasped from behind, while Tom, worming his way to the side of the lad who had been hit, caught his upraised arm.
“It’s all right, Henry,” he called in his ear. “It’s all over I guess. Hammond has hold of Skeel.”