“Where is that deed?” demanded the man, angrily. “It was in my chair, and I want it.”
“It was in the chair—it isn’t now,” said Tom. “It is where you can’t get it—in Dr. Churchill’s safe, and Randall College is rid of her enemies!”
“Give—me—back—my—deed!” fairly howled the man.
He seemed as if he would strike Tom, but the plucky end faced him fearlessly. Suddenly from outside came a burst of cheers. They welled to the ears of our heroes.
“The Boxer Hall crowd!” exclaimed Phil. “They’re here for the big game! Come on, fellows! Now to play for our lives!”
Once again came the burst of cheers. Looking from their windows, our friends could see a crowd of Boxer Hall students, arriving in big stages, which they had hired. Their cries of greeting and defiance were answered by those of the Randall lads, who came pouring out on the campus.
“My deed—where is my deed? Give it to me!” repeated the stranger, eagerly.
Tom turned on him like a flash.
“Look here!” the end cried. “I don’t know you, and I don’t know what your game is. But I do know that we’ve got the deed, and that we’re going to keep it. Now, you get out of here, and don’t come back. We’re going to play football, and if you want to make any claim, you go to the Randall lawyers. Now—vamoose!”
Tom pointed to the door. The man looked at him defiantly, and seemed about to leap at the lad. Then, with a slinking glance, he departed.