“Yes, needles; ten million of them, by the way I feel!”
Phil placed the mudturtle in the wash basin, where it vainly tried to climb up the slippery porcelain sides. Then he went over to Tom’s bed.
“There are no needles here,” he said.
“No? What are they, then?” demanded Tom, continuing to rub himself.
“Chestnut burrs,” replied his chum, after a more careful inspection. “Some one has taken the stickers off a lot of chestnut burrs and scattered them in your bed. No wonder they went through your pajamas. I’d rather have the mudturtle than them.”
“Or a snake,” added Sid. “I wonder who did it?”
Phil pulled back the covers from Tom’s bed. At the foot, between the sheets, was a piece of paper. The quarter-back made a grab for it and read:
“Compliments of the freshmen. Maybe you won’t be so smart next time.”
“The freshmen!” cried Tom. “We’ll make them smart for this!”
“They’ve made you smart already,” commented Sid, as he put his snake in a pasteboard box, and carefully closed it with a weight on top. “I guess they got ahead of us this time.”