“Gee, this is fierce!” groaned a fat freshman, staggering along under the burden of two big boxes. “Those fellows want too much. I’m going to quit!”
“Look out! Don’t let ’em hear you!” warned a companion. “They’ll keep you carting it all night if you kick.”
“Kick! (puff) Kick! (puff) I ain’t got wind enough to do any kickin’. I’m (puff) all (puff) in!”
“Oh, well, it’s all in the game. We’ll be out of this class next term, and we can watch the other fellows sweat! Cut along!”
“Wood! Wood over here!”
“Where’s Andy Blair?”
“I don’t know. Oh you Swipes! What you got!”
“All right! This’ll make a flare, all right!”
“Oh, for the love of Peter! Look what Swipes has!”
Harry, otherwise “Swipes” Morton, was convoying four laboring and perspiring freshmen who were carting over the campus a big box that had ones contained a piano.