Ready thought he had the range of Boltwood, and he struck out. His knuckles, however, encountered something hard, knocking the skin off them.
“Too bad!” said the voice of the freshman. “Try it again, please.”
“Slam him down in the bottom of the cab!” roared Bingham.
“Won’t that be nice!” laughed the freshman. “You can use me for a foot-mat. He, he!”
But he got hold of Bingham by the back of the neck, and gave the big fellow a twisting flop that threw him to the bottom of the cab.
“Steady,” said the poet, as he held the big soph down with his knees. “Lie still and take things easy.”
Both Carker and Ready tried to grapple with the fellow, but they got hold of each other by mistake, and he proceeded to slam them down on top of Bingham, filling the space between the two seats with their bodies. Then he sat on them and held them down.
The cab rumbled on, and the freshman began to sing, “Throw Him Down, McClusky.”
Bingham howled, Carker squawked, and Ready squealed.