As soon as it was seen that the rioting was over for the night, the students betook themselves to other parts. The sophomores lingered the longest at their fence, growling over what had happened. Jack Ready found himself regarded with considerable disfavor, many seeming to think he should have foreseen the trick at the pass and been prepared for it.
“Alas!” he sighed. “I did foresee it to the extent of capturing that devil Boltwood, but somehow he broke forth, or fifth, from his dungeon cell, and was right in the midst of the prayer-meeting.”
“But where did he go to?” growled Bingham. “He disappeared mighty suddenly.”
“That was strange,” put in Carker.
“Strange!” exploded Ready. “Will you tell me something that happened to-night that was not strange? This poet works in wondrous ways his marvels to perform. I’ll never get over it. Think of being held up for ridicule by a wall-eyed he-goat like that! Yow!”
“And he slammed me round as if I never cost a cent in my life,” said Bingham.
“He had the strength of—of——” began Carker.
“An earthquake,” finished Ready.
“Let’s shake the earthquake for a while,” begged Greg.
“We look as if it had shaken us,” muttered Bingham.