“Better go slow,” advised Phil. “Take it easy, old man. Langridge is a slick article. We know that of old. If you try a rough-house he’ll have you at a disadvantage.”
“I can’t help it. I’m not going to let him get ahead of me this way.”
“Oh, forget it and play ball,” advised Tom with a laugh, for he felt that the subject was getting too serious, and his heart was wrapped up in his team, despite a certain pretty girl.
“I only wish I could—forget it,” answered Sid.
It was several days after this, and a few days before the game with Wescott University, which was to be played on the latter club’s grounds, that Phil, Tom and Sid journeyed to the town of Haddonfield to get some things to take with them on the trip. For it was quite a journey to play Wescott, a college with whom Randall had clashed in football, losing the game because Phil was taken sick and a new quarter back had to go in. It took a day to go and a day to come, and the lads would need to take some baggage with them.
The three chums had made their purchases, and were on their way to take a car back to Randall, when Sid grasped the arm of Tom.
“There he is!” he exclaimed.
“Who?” asked Tom, who was critically examining a new tie he had purchased.
“Langridge!” cried Sid. “I’m going to have it out with him.”
“Don’t,” begged Phil, but it was too late, for Sid had crossed the street to where the former pitcher for Randall was walking with another chap, as sportily attired as was he.