"Easy, Bob," warned Frank in an undertone.
"Say, Banbury Cross," observed Bob, "there was a fellow of your name chased out of our county for sheep stealing, and another kept the dog pound. You snarl just exactly like some of the curs he keeps there."
"Banbury, cranberry, bow, wow, wow!" derided Ritchie. "Good for you,
Upton—you hit the nail on the head that time."
"Upton—Robert Upton!" bellowed the old janitor, Scroggins, appearing on the campus just then.
"That's me," acknowledged Bob.
"President Elliott wishes to see you in the library," said Scroggins.
"Aha!" snorted Banbury. "Called down already! Look out, Bob-up, you're in for a quake in the shoes."
"No; the president is going to consult him on how to raise squashes," sneered a crony of Banbury.
"Say, Frank," whispered Bob, quite in a quake, "I'm going to get it for something. What can it be?"
"Don't worry," replied Frank. "Face the music. I fancy you won't be hit very hard."