“No, only a little thump on the head; but yonder are some of the Faculty coming, and, if we do not wish to be involved in a long trial, we’d better run.”
“I am surprised at you, John. Run! what for? I should act precisely the same way under the same circumstances again.”
The two figures we had seen had come up to us by this time, and proved to be only a couple of students, members of the Senior class, and one of whom I recognized as Mr. Carrover, my travelling acquaintance.
“What’s the row?” he said, looking at us inquiringly, as we were brushing the dust from our clothes. “Oh, I see, Sophs devilling you and you resisted; right, too. They have no privileges beyond the campus. Come, go back with us, we will see that you are not molested further to-night.”
We were about to proceed to the hotel, when Carrover’s companion spoke, for the first time, with a soft, rich voice:
“Charlie, you forget me. I shall have to introduce myself. DeVare is my name——”
“DeVare, I beg your pardon,” said Carrover, hastily, “let me introduce you to Mr. Cheyleigh, of Wilmington, and Mr. Smith, of the same place.”
“I am very happy to know you both,” he said pleasantly, offering his hand, “any assistance Charlie or myself can give you in dodging the Sophs will be cheerfully rendered.”
We thanked him, and brushing the dust of conflict from our clothes with our handkerchiefs, walked back with them to the hotel. The porch steps were thronged with students talking about our difficulty.
“The scamps showed fight, did they,” said one, as we approached; “that’s too high for Fresh—they must be taken down.”