Dink laughed and escaped, seeing, in a last glance at the vaporous fitful room, Troutman solemnly giving his hand to Waters, whom he was congratulating on his extreme moral courage in remaining.
Tommy Bain, in the confusion, slipped out unnoticed and joined them. The last swollen burst of the song was shut from them. They went back toward the campus in twos and threes, over the quiet, moist pavement, past the noisy windows of Mory's—where no freshmen need apply—to the Common, where suddenly, in the moonlit shadow of a great elm, they found a vociferous group with Tom Kelly and McNab in the midst.
At this moment something fell from the skies within perilous distance.
"What the deuce is that?" said Hungerford, jumping back.
"Why, it's a pool-ball," said Stone, stooping down.
Another fell, just missing Hunter's shoulders.
"It's Kelly," said Bain, "and he's firing at us."
With a rush they joined the group, to find Kelly, determined and enthusiastic, solemnly discharging his ammunition at the great bulbous moon that was set lumberingly above them. They joined the group that surrounded him, expostulating, sober or fuddled:
"Don't be an ass, Tom."
"The cops are coming."