“Yes. Now I hope you young gentlemen don’t have too much of a fight. Don’t break the furniture.”
“Not any more than we can help,” promised Sid.
“When the other fellows come—I mean the freshmen, let ’em right up,” instructed Holly. “We’ll be ready for ’em. Are the rear stairs clear?”
“Yes, you can slip out that way, and I put double locks on the door you’ll go out of.”
“And a spring lock on the one they’ll enter by?” asked Tom.
“Yes, just as you told me. Now don’t do too much damage,” and the man, the proprietor of the place, seemed somewhat apprehensive.
“Oh, we’ll pay for everything,” agreed Holly. “Well, we’re ready any time Bascome and his crowd are.”
“I’m glad the sophs didn’t think of a game like this to play on us when we tried to break up their dinner last year,” observed Sid, as the four entered the room.
The place presented a curious sight. There was a table set as if for a banquet, with plates, knives and forks, glasses, and with the usual candles burning in silver candelabras. At the head of the banquet board was a stuffed figure, representing a Randall college student, with the college colors in gay ribbons pinned on one side of his caricature of a face, while the sophomore hues adorned the other side.
“Got the camera and flash powder?” asked Holly.