“Oh, yes,” replied Tom, with a glance at it. “Sid gave it a wrench, but I guess it will be all right to-morrow. I can’t understand him, can you?”
“No, and I’ve given up trying.”
“No, don’t do that!” begged Tom. “We’ve just got to save Sid.”
“But if he won’t let us?”
“We must do it in spite of himself. I will try to think of a way,” and Tom threw himself back on the sofa, and turned his face to the wall. Phil walked softly across the room, and sat down in the big chair. Somehow it seemed as if their chum had gone, never to return. For more than an hour the two sat there, neither speaking, and the clock ticked on relentlessly.
“Well,” remarked Tom at length, with a sigh, “guess I’ll turn in.”
Sid was in his bed when the two chums awoke in the morning, though neither Phil nor Tom had heard him come in. He did not refer to the happening of the previous night, but after chapel, which was made particularly solemn by a short sermon by the doctor on the prodigal son, Sid drew away from his chums, who started for their classes.
“Where you going?” asked Tom, for Sid and he had the same studies this morning period.
“Up to see Moses,” was the answer, “Moses” being the students’ pet name for Dr. Churchill. “Zane caught me again last night. I was out after hours without a permit. I’m in for it I guess,” and Sid laughed recklessly.
“Why, old man——” began Tom, and then he stopped. He did not know what to say. Then he felt it would be better to say nothing, and he hurried on to the lecture, anxious to have it over with, and get out on the diamond with his men, for the final game with Fairview was to come off that afternoon.