A WILD NIGHT
“Say, Ricky is sure putting up a great fight!”
“Yes, and he’s as wiry as they make ’em!”
“He’ll make ’em wish they’d let him alone—maybe.”
“And maybe not,” returned Spike. He and Joe had passed these remarks after a grim silence, followed by a resumption of the crashing struggle in the hall near the front door. “There are too many of ’em for him,” went on Joe’s room-mate.
“Wait until I take a peep,” proposed the young pitcher. He advanced to the door, rolling up his sleeves as he went.
“Don’t!” snapped Spike. “They’ll be here soon enough as it is, without us showing ourselves. I’d just as soon they’d pass us up this trip—it’s an unpleasant mess.”
“That’s right. Maybe we can stand ’em off.”
“No such luck. I think they’re coming.”
The noise in the hall seemed redoubled. Ricky could be heard expostulating, and from that he changed to threats.