“Yes,” echoed another, “a good smoke will bring ’em ’round .”
“How came they to fight? Was anybody hurt?” asked another.
“Why, we were just devilling them a little,” said the first speaker, when one of ’em asked Burly to let him pass, as if he were the Sultan, and, because Burly didn’t make his obeisance, put a smasher on his nose. Ellerton tapped one a little with his cane, and I was choking the one that hit Burly, but the mutton-headed Faculty broke us up.
We had reached the steps by this time, and passed through the crowd without molestation. Carrover turned when he got in the porch and said, addressing the students:
“It was mean enough to devil Fresh in the streets, without a dozen of you trying to beat two. If anything further is attempted to-night DeVare and myself will remain with them and help them to defend themselves.”
“Whoo-ee,” shouted a half dozen voices, “that won’t do, Carrover; too plain a bid. Drum for your club more secretly.”
We only noticed that this sally rather confused Carrover, when, thinking it prudent to withdraw, we slipped off to our room unnoticed, and locked and bolted the door. We lit our lamps and examined the results of our struggle. A little knot on my head, and a torn collar on Ned’s part, completed our list of casualties. Summing up the events of the day, we came to the conclusion that college life was not such a very fine thing after all, and that John Howard Payne was extremely sensible when he wrote
“There’s no place like home.”
