Dunk flashed Andy a signal. It would not do, he knew, to spend this night—of all nights—the one before an important game—with this crowd of fun-loving lads. They must get away.
“Look here, fellows!” expostulated Andy, “we really can’t come, you know!”
“That’s right,” chimed in Dunk. “Let us off this time and maybe to-morrow night——”
“There may never be a to-morrow night!” chanted one of the tormentors. “Live while you can, and enjoy yourself. You’re a long time dead. To-morrow is no man’s time. The present alone is ours. Who said that, fellows? Did I make that up or not? It’s blamed good, anyhow. Let’s see, what was it? The present——”
“Oh, dry up! You talk too much!” protested one of his companions, with a laugh.
“What’s the matter with you fellows, anyhow?” demanded another of Andy and Dunk, who were making more strenuous efforts to get away. “Don’t you love us any more?”
“Sure, better than ever,” laughed Andy. “But you know Dunk and I have to pitch and catch in the Princeton freshman game to-morrow, and we——”
“Say no more! I forgot about that,” exclaimed the leader. “They can’t be burning the midnight incandescents. Let ’em go, fellows. And may we have the honor and pleasure of your company to-morrow night?” he asked, with an elaborate bow.
“If we win—yes,” said Dunk.
“It’s a bargain, then. Come on, boys, we’re late now,” and they started off.