"Don't I, though! But never mind." The general-utility man started to put on the other sock. "If you think—Great snakes, what's this? Oh, my foot! A hop-toad! Beastly!" And Peleg flung the toad at Larry. The ex-major dodged and the animal struck William Philander Tubbs full in the face.
"Oh, ah—what do you—ah—mean by such actions!" stormed the aristocratic cadet. "I shall report this."
"Hurrah, Tubby has gone into the frog-raising business," shouted Tom, merrily.
"I shan't put nuthin' on here," went on Peleg Snuggers, and watching his chance, he ran off at top speed, with his shoes in one hand and his socks in the other.
CHAPTER VIII
GOOD-BYE TO PUTNAM HALL
"Now, Songbird, give us one of your best poetical effusions," came from Dick Rover, after the excitement had died down a little. "We haven't heard a word out of you for fourteen minutes and a quarter."
"Yes, Songbird, turn on the poetry spigot and let her flow," put in
Tom.
"Give us something on old schooldays," came from another cadet.
"Put in a touch of last farewells," added another.