[CHAPTER I]
A PERILOUS RIDE
“What a glorious night!”
Tom Parsons, standing at the window of the study which he shared with his chums, looked across the campus of Randall College.
“It’s just perfect,” he went on.
There was no answer from the three lads who, in various attitudes, took their ease, making more or less of pretenses at studying.
“The moon,” Tom went on, “the moon is full——”
“So are you—of words,” blurted out Sid Henderson, as he leafed his trigonometry.
“It’s one of the finest nights——”
“Since nights were invented,” broke in Phil Clinton, with a yawn. “Dry up, Tom, and let us bone, will you?”
Unmoved by the scorn of his chums, the tall lad at the casement, gazing out on the scene, which, to do him justice, had wonderfully moved him, continued to stand there. Then, in a quiet voice, as though unconscious of the presence of the others, he spoke: