“Hold them back!” cried Professor Broad, the athletic instructor and master of the gym.
Thirty or forty lads, many of them wearing chevrons on their sleeves, joined with Professor Broad in restraining the excited witnesses.
On the field it seemed that a fight was imminent. Some of the New Era men wanted to tackle Buckhart, and he promptly invited them to come on.
“Sail right in, you galoots!” he cried, swinging his clenched fists in the air. “If that’s the kind of game you want to play, you’ll get all that is coming to you! You hear me shout!”
Captain Huckley restrained his men.
“The whole thing was unintentional,” he said.
“Not on my part,” promptly confessed Brad. “I kicked the onery skunk, and I meant to do it, you bet! He tried to stamp out my pard, and I’d shot him full of holes if I’d had a gun!”
From behind the ropes where he was being held in check, Chester Arlington cried:
“That’s the stuff, Buckhart! Get at him again!”
The excited cadets had been checked, but they were standing, looking black enough as they glared through the rain at the mud-bespattered players.