“It’s that new fellow,” interrupted Sid as he, just then, caught a glimpse of the youth who had caused the disturbance. “He came in yesterday, don’t you remember. He’s in the soph. science division. Gabbler—Rabbler or some such name as that.”
“I know!” exclaimed Tom. “It’s Shambler—Jake Shambler. He introduced himself to me after first lecture. Rather fresh, I thought him, even if he did make the soph. class. What’s he doing?”
“Going out, as near as I can tell,” replied Sid. “He must have had a scuffle with Franklin. Well, it’s none of our funeral. Let’s turn in. I’m dead tired.”
“What sort of a chap is he?” asked Frank, in rather idle curiosity, as with the light once more switched on, the four boys proceeded to get ready for bed.
“Not our sort at all,” replied Tom. “Decent enough appearing, and all that, but the kind that thinks he knows it all. That was a fair sample, the way he talked to the monitor just now.”
“Serve him right if he got caught,” murmured Phil.
“Oh, he’ll get it all right,” declared Sid. “Pop Zane isn’t as easy as he was when we first came here. He’s right up to the mark, and if this Shambler thinks he can shuffle off the campus, and come back when it pleases his own sweet will, he’ll have another guess coming. What did he say to you, Tom?”
“Nothing much.”
“It must have been something.”
“Well, I was in a hurry, and I didn’t pay much attention. He wanted to know something about athletics, whether we’d have a ball team or not. I said we probably would, and then he wanted to know what show there was for track athletics. I didn’t know, so I couldn’t tell him. Then I thought he was getting too friendly on short notice, so I shook him.”