“Get out!” cried Joe, thinking of the effect it would have on Weston should the truth—as Joe thought it—come out. He had half made up his mind to deny everything he had seen, even if questioned.
“That’s right,” asserted Jimmie. “This article says it may soon be known who did the ‘dastardly deed’—note the ‘dastardly’—guess the editor dipped his pen in sulphuric acid. But it was a mean trick, and I guess we all feel the same way about it. The fellow who did it ought to be fired. Fun is fun, and I like it as much as anybody, but this passes the limits.”
“Right!” exclaimed Spike. “But does it say anything about who it might be—what class?”
“Oh, it as much as says a Freshman did it, of course—as if we did everything last year. Anyhow, it’s stirred up a lot of talk, I can tell you. I just came across the campus and the News sold more copies than ever before, I guess. Everyone seems to have one, and they’re all talking about it. I hope if they do find out who did it, that he won’t happen to be any of our crowd—or on the ball nine.”
“Why?” asked Spike.
“Why—he’d be expelled, of course, and if it was one of the ’varsity nine it might have a bad effect on winning the championship. We’ve got to win that this year.”
“Oh, I guess it’s mostly talk,” asserted Spike, as he read the article after Joe had finished. As for Joe he said little. But he thought much.
“Maybe,” agreed Jimmie. “And yet it looks as if there was something back of it all. I only hope there isn’t. It would be tough for our class to have to stand for this.”
There was more talk along the same line, and, a little later, some other of the second-year class dropped in and continued the session. There were differences of opinion, as might have been expected.