“Did Tubb try to get back at him?”
“At Frick? No, not that I know of. Maybe he has by now. Maybe, though, it wasn’t Frick who plugged him. I only heard some one say so afterwards; Casement I think.”
“It was Frick, I’ll wager,” said Toby. “Hang him, I wish he’d behave himself until the season’s over. Tubb’s crazy to fight him, and I’m afraid he will, and if he does some one will get on to it and he will get the dickens.”
“That’s no joke,” agreed Arnold. “You’d better give him a tip to keep quiet until after we’ve licked Broadwood. It wouldn’t do to lose as good a chap as Tubb. I heard, by the way, that Frick and a couple of other fellows had a mix-up with some of the mill toughs the other night; Saturday I think it was; and that Frick, for once, got the short end of it. Too bad they didn’t cure him!”
“Guess I’ll run up and see him after supper,” said Toby thoughtfully.
“Frick?” asked Arnold innocently.
“If I did I’d give him a good lesson,” answered Toby grimly. “No, Tubb. I made him sort of promise to be good, but if Frick’s gone and pasted him again——” Toby shook his head lugubriously.
Arnold laughed. “Think his patience may wear thin after awhile, eh? Well, I can’t say I’d blame him if it did. Still, he mustn’t be allowed to get in wrong with faculty just yet. Go on up and read the riot-act to him, old thing. By the bye, what happened to you this afternoon? What kep ye?”
“Gyp,” said Toby. “He wouldn’t let me on. Said I was to play tennis instead!”