"Didn't you hear what I said?" growled Ballard. "Come on." He let Channing do the guying, but he liked to take a hand in the bossing himself.
Apparently Young heard nothing; he had not said a word, and he was quietly looking down at the carpet, but his heart was beating fast.
"Now, see here, Deacon," said Channing, "we don't want to have any trouble with you. Are you going to come along peacefully and have an easy time of it, or are you going to make a little trouble for us and a lot for yourself?"
Young did not speak or look up. He seemed to be moving his tongue about in his cheek.
Ballard approached him. "You won't come, eh?" he said, angrily. And with that he took him by the shoulder.
"Take your hands off me," said the Freshman, shrilly, and wrenched quickly away, backing up against the wall. He stood there breathing hard, and he glanced from one Sophomore to the other.
Now, it is not the easiest thing in the world for a big man and a little man to drag out of a room one very good-sized man who looks as if he had made up his mind to stay in it. At any rate, to do it without considerable noise is impossible. Therefore Channing stepped across to the open window, stuck his head out, and gave a long, peculiar whistle. He waited a moment and then repeated it Then an answer came back from the distance.
"We'll soon fix you, Deacon," he remarked, nodding his head, as he returned from the window.
Young was still standing backed up against the wall. Ballard, braced against the door opposite to prevent the Freshman's escape, was scowling.
"They'll be here in a minute," said Channing.