“This will be the death of me!” he groaned.
“It ought to be!” roared Bingham. “You did a nice thing carrying Boltwood off, didn’t you?”
“You helped.”
“Well, what good did it do?”
“Merriwell fooled us! Boltwood never could lead in anything like this.”
Then again Jack tried to rally the sophomores and fight his way through. He had turned back now, fancying it might be easier to escape into the mass of juniors and seniors than to get out the other way. In some manner he struggled along, trying to dodge the descending cloudbursts of water. In the midst of his struggles he came face to face with—Boltwood!
Ready nearly fainted.
“Good lud!” he palpitated.
“Good eve,” said Boltwood.
Then he hit Ready with a stuffed club he had captured from a sophomore.