Blake leaned over him, a swift gleam of triumph in his eyes.
“Yes, that’s the idea,” he returned quietly.
CHAPTER V
THE QUARREL.
By the time Jim Townsend reached the campus he was at a white heat.
“Hang him!” he snapped viciously. “I know that’s what he’s up to, but how in the mischief can I make Bob understand? He’s such a softy he simply won’t believe a thing against Blake, just because he likes him. The double-faced skunk!”
The last remark was intended for Blake, but Jim was too wrought up to talk coherently. He wandered around the campus for a few minutes and then decided to take his troubles to Blair Hildebrand, one of his particular chums, whose cool, level-headed advice had helped him out on more than one occasion.
He found the big, blue-eyed senior alone, glancing over the latest issue of the Lit, and evidently very tired of his own company.
“Hello, old man,” he said cordially, as Townsend appeared. “You’re a perfect godsend. George has gone to New York, and I was just thinking of looking up some congenial spirit and painting the town red. How’s everything?”
“Rotten!” returned Townsend shortly, as he dropped onto a chair. “That dub, Jarvis Blake, is over at the rooms jabbering football and keeping Bob from doing an earthly thing with to-morrow’s work. And you know how the dean warned him the other day.”