“That’s right,” said the freshman, getting Ready by the neck somehow and kicking his feet into the air. “I shall enjoy it so much!”
Down came Ready on the back of his neck. Boltwood placed a foot on his breast, struck a pose, and began to recite poetry.
The shock and the surprise had deprived Jack of his breath for a moment, but he quickly recovered and grabbed Boltwood by the leg, exclaiming:
“Come down here a moment! I want to see you!”
Boltwood came down, but he fell so that both his knees gouged into Ready and knocked the breath out of him again.
“Take a good look at me,” said the poet, “for I am the last person you’ll see on earth. You die right here.”
“I’m willing!” came faintly from Jack. “After this death will be a keen delight!”
He had been forced to let go his hold on Boltwood, but he scrambled up as the freshman rose. Then they grappled again, but somehow Boltwood tossed Jack into the air and let him fall upon a pile of struggling sophomores, who were squirming and twisting and trying to get up. A burst of mocking laughter came from the lips of the freshman, and then a descending cloud of water struck Jack in the face and eyes, blotting out the triumphant poet from his view.
When Ready untangled himself from that squirming mass, Boltwood had vanished.