The players started on the run toward the professor, who still reclined in a sprawling attitude on the ground. He was the least liked of all the faculty, yet the lads could do no less than go to his assistance.
“Maybe he’s hurt,” said Tom.
“He’s too tough for that,” was the opinion of Bricktop.
Before the crowd of players reached the prostrate teacher he had arisen. His face was first red and then pale by turns, so great was his rage. He looked at the dirt on his clothes, and then at his book, lying face downward some distance away.
“Young gentlemen!” he cried in his sternest voice. “Young gentlemen, I object to this! Most emphatically do I object! You have gone entirely too far! It is disgraceful! You shall hear further of this! You may all report to me in half an hour in my room! I most seriously object! It is disgraceful that such conduct should be allowed at any college! I shall speak to Dr. Churchill and enter a most strenuous objection! The idea!”
He replaced his glasses, which had fallen off, and accepted his book that Tom picked up.
“Don’t forget,” he added severely. “I shall expect you all to report to me in half an hour.”
At that moment Dr. Albertus Churchill, the aged and dignified head of the college, and Mr. Andrew Zane, a proctor, came strolling along.
“Ah! I shall report your disgraceful conduct to Dr. Churchill at once,” added Professor Tines, as he walked toward the venerable, white-haired doctor. “I shall enter my strongest objection to the continuance of football here.”
There were blank looks on the faces of the players.