“Make him swim Sunny River,” declared Dutch, with a chuckle. “That is, we’re going to chuck him in, and he’ll sink or swim.”
“That’s taking chances,” remarked Tom, quickly. Somehow, he did not like the idea of hazing the Californian. They had become too friendly with him, and Tom was glad his chums had declined to have a hand in it.
“No chances at all,” denied Dutch, vigorously. “We’ll be ready with a boat and ropes, in case he can’t swim. But I think he can.”
“I didn’t mean about that part of it,” went on the end. “But he may take cold.”
“Oh, piffle!” cried Holly Cross. “If he can’t stand a little wetting he’s no good. Besides, it’s warm to-night. Come on, Dutch; we’ll go back and tell the crowd that this bunch is doing its knitting, and can’t come.” His voice showed his contempt.
“Tell ’em anything you like,” retorted Sid, “and maybe before you’re through you’ll wish you’d stayed home and learned your lessons.”
“Aw, rats!” fired back Dutch, as he and his chum went down the corridor.
“Say, maybe there’s more truth than poetry in what you said,” commented Phil, after the door had been closed.
“In what?” asked Sid.