“We didn’t see the camera at all,” put in Andy Snow. “So please don’t get so hot about it.”
“Oh, I know you fellows!” stormed Dan Baxter, working himself up into a rage, as was often his habit. “You think you can ride over me. But you can’t do it.”
“If you are going to take a picture you had better do it,” said Jack, quietly. “It will be too dark in another ten minutes.”
“Oh, don’t give me any advice, Jack Ruddy. Just because you are the major this term you can’t boss me.”
“I am not trying to boss you, as you call it, Baxter. Come, why can’t you drop the past and be friends?”
“I don’t want to be friends with you.”
“We’d rather have you for enemies any time,” came from Gus Coulter, who had been helping his crony carry the photographing outfit.
“That’s the talk,” added Nick Paxton, who was likewise present. “We prefer to choose our own friends; eh, fellows?”
“And we don’t choose the Ruddy crowd,” said Coulter.
“Very well, have your own way,” answered Jack, coldly. “But it would be nicer the other way.”