“Ho! Ho! That’s good. That’s rich, that is!” laughed one who had been yanked out of his seat by Tom Hatfield. “That’s a good joke, that is! An auto on Yale campus! Why we bulldogs would eat it up, that’s what we’d do!”
“Well, that’s what we’ll do here!” cried Chet, angered by the supercilious tone of the lad. “Come on, boys; run ’em off Spanish fashion!”
It needed but this suggestion to further rouse the feelings of the Milton lads, and in an instant several of them had grabbed each of the trespassers. Andy stepped back from Mortimer. Because of the already strained relations between himself and this society “swell,” he did not wish to take a part in the proceedings.
“Come on! Run ’em off!” was the rallying cry.
The auto had already been steered out on a road that circled the campus, and was soon in the street. Then, heading their victims toward the old gateway that formed the chief entrance to the school the Milton lads began running out the intruders.
“You wait! I—I’ll fix you for this,—Andy Blair!” threatened Mortimer as he was rapidly propelled over the campus.
“Forget it!” advised Chet. “Rush ’em, fellows!”
And rushed off Mortimer and his companions were. They were fairly tossed into their auto, and then, with jeers and shouted advice not to repeat the trick, the school boys turned back to their fire.
Andy had lingered near the spot where he had hauled Mortimer out of the auto. He was thinking of many things. He did not forget what had happened to the intruders. Indeed it was nothing short of what they deserved, for they had deliberately tried to harass the school boys, and make a mockery of one of the oldest traditions of Milton—one that held inviolate the beautiful campus.
“Only I wish it had been someone else than I who got hold of Mort,” mused Andy. “He’ll be sure to remember it when I get to Yale, and he’ll have it in for me. He can make a lot of trouble, too, I reckon. Well, it can’t be helped. They only got what was coming to ’em.”