Quick as thought, Don dropped the football suit and clutched at the unseen figure, crying:
“Hold on! What are you doing in here?”
He grasped the other, who made a desperate effort to jerk away, but Don held fast, and directly a fearful struggle took place in the darkness of the dressing-room.
Finding that the sole object of the unknown seemed to be to break away and escape, Don was convinced that the fellow had been doing something crooked.
“Let go!” was panted, in a hoarse tone of voice.
“I guess not!” returned Don. “Just keep still, will you!”
But the other would not keep still, and Don felt for his throat, grating:
“Then I’ll have to choke you till you do keep still!”
But he could not secure the hold he desired, for his antagonist fought him off. At last, getting a grasp about the fellow’s body, Don tripped and threw him heavily, coming down upon him with crushing violence.
Apparently the fall had stunned the unknown for the moment, at least, as he lay quite still. Noting this, Don rose to his knees and felt in his pockets for a match, which he intended to light.