“Wow! Think of it! Two days off!” whispered Dutch.
“You’ll practice football as you never did before,” declared Kindlings with energy. “It isn’t going to be all cakes and ginger ale for you, Dutch, my lad!”
There was much jubilation among the students at the prospect of an unexpected vacation, and even that day, preceding the two days’ holiday, the spirit of unrest was manifested, so that lectures suffered.
Early the next morning, President Churchill and the entire faculty took the train for the county seat, where the legal battle would be fought in the courthouse. The president and the instructors were needed to give evidence as to how long Randall had been in undisturbed possession of the land, as the college lawyers hoped thus to prove their right to it, even without the lost quit-claim deed.
“Now, young gentlemen,” began Proctor Zane, when the authorities had departed, “I shall expect implicit obedience from all of you in this emergency. I want no skylarking or horseplay,” and as he said that he looked directly at Dutch Housenlager.
“Oh, no, we won’t do a thing,” promised the fun-loving lad. “Will we, Holly?”
“Speak for yourself. I’m going to practice kicking,” declared the big centre, as he walked over toward the gridiron with a ball under his arm, followed by a number of the eleven.
Kindlings and the coach took advantage of the free time to insist on thorough practice, and an impromptu game was arranged with a nearby preparatory school for the following day, while for the present the ’varsity would have the scrub as opponents. There was a noticeable improvement on the part of the regular eleven, and Captain Woodhouse felt much encouraged.
“I say, fellows,” remarked Dutch Housenlager, as he strolled into the room of our four chums that night, and found Frank Simpson there, “I’ve got a great idea.”
“What is it, to set the college on fire, transport it bodily to some other location, or some other cute and infantile bit of cutting-up like that?” asked Tom.