“Well?” demanded his chums of him.
“Great!” he cried. “He received me in his study. Say, were you ever there? It’s a fine place. Books, books, books all over. The floor was piled full of them. There was a fire going on the grate and he was sitting there, reading some book with the queerest letters in it.”
“Sanskrit,” ventured Phil.
“I guess so. Well, he brought up a chair for me, and——”
“Oh, for the love of Dionysius! give us some facts,” cried Sid. “What happened?”
“Well, he said he’d had a talk with the proctor and he removed the worst part of my suspension. I can go to the two games here with Boxer Hall and Fairview, but I can’t play. I couldn’t, anyhow, on account of my arm, so that’s all right. And I can attend the special lectures in biology, which I hated to miss. I can’t recite for two weeks, but I don’t mind that. It’s all right. I’ll vote for Moses every time!”
“I should say yes,” agreed Phil. “He’s white, he is. But Zane—ugh! He’s——”
“Treason,” counseled Sid quietly. “The walls may not have ears, but the keyhole has. Better cut it, fellows, the time is almost up, and Zane’s scouts will be sneaking around.”
The other lads departed, leaving Tom and Sid alone.