“Well, you must have had a hot time,” observed Dick.
“Hot sure is no name for it. Don’t ask any questions now. Wait till we get under cover. I want to sneak in by the back way. Think of being walloped by a lot of high-school kids. Waugh!”
Never had the Texan expressed greater disgust than he threw into that final exclamation. Swinging on his heel, he strode away, regardless of Merriwell.
Failing to accept Brad’s warning, Dick took Jones by the arm and began to question him.
“A wise head containeth a silent tongue,” muttered the disgruntled captain of the freshman team.
“But he that seeketh diligently after wisdom shall obtain it,” reminded Dick.
“And he that is devoured by much inquisitiveness causeth disturbance,” retorted Blessed. “Let us seek the shelter of our roof tree before we prattle of our disgrace.”
“Evidently you all take it sorely to heart,” said Merriwell. “I never saw such a cut-up looking bunch of ball players.”
“Cut up? If I’d let them scrap on the train, they’d be worse cut up than they are now. Dick, I’m afraid harmony on the team is a thing of the past. This has been a fatal day. And they all blame Robinson and me for letting you stay behind. Don’t talk of it now.”
That was all he could get out of Jones until they were in their room. With his door open, Buckhart could be heard prowling about in the adjoining room, but he seemed quite willing to let Blessed explain how the thing had happened.