[CHAPTER XVIII]
A FIRE ALARM
“Well,” remarked Phil ruefully, as he and Tom, rather sore and bruised, went to their room. There was an air of quietness about the sophomores. They did not cheer and sing, but back on the knoll the victorious freshmen made the night hideous with their college cries.
“Is that all?” inquired Tom, for Phil had uttered only the one word.
“That’s all, son, as Bricktop Molloy would say. ‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’ We were dumped good and proper.”
“With plenty of gravy on the side,” added Sid.
“I was afraid of it,” spoke Tom solemnly. “I said they were too many for us.”
“Listen to old ‘I told you so,’” mocked Phil. “Next he’ll be telling us that he predicted we’d lose the football championship. You make me tired!”
“I’m tired already,” retorted Tom good naturedly. “Some one gave me an extra good poke in the ribs the last minute.”