"Of course not," she replied in a hard, flat voice. "Not too busy for you boys, anyway. Come along with us and we'll make this a big afternoon."
"Sure," Carl agreed.
"Sh-shure," Hugh stuttered. He reached forward to take the arm of the girl who had spoken, but at the same instant some one caught him by the wrist and held him still.
Harry Slade, the star football player and this year's captain, happened to be in Hastings; he was, in fact, seeking these very girls. He had intended to pass on when he saw two men with them, but as soon as he recognized Hugh he paused and then impulsively strode forward.
"Here, Carver," he said sharply. "What are you doing?"
"None—none of you da-damn business," Hugh replied angrily, trying to shake his wrist free. "Leggo of me or—or I'll—I'll—"
"You won't do anything," 'Slade interrupted. "You're going home with me."
"Who in hell are you?" one of the girls asked viciously. "Mind your own damn business."
"You mind yours, sister, or you'll get into a peck of trouble. This kid's going with me—and don't forget that. Come on, Carver."
Hugh was still vainly trying to twist his wrist free and was muttering, "Leggo, leggo o' me."