Whew! He drew himself up with a long breath, turned and rushed back to his seat.
"See here," he cried, throwing himself down, "you can take all the places nearest to your house—and I'll do the same."
Phipps turned and regarded him with a stare.
"To tell the fathers and mothers," explained St. George with a nod, "no other way, you see, why the chaps don't get home."
"Good gracious!" cried Phipps explosively, "I never thought of that. We can't! We're as hungry as beavers."
"We must." St. George laughed gayly, now that the struggle was over, and indulged in a smart pinch on his companion's shoulder. "Wake up, old fellow."
"You let me be," cried Phipps crossly, shaking him off, "and you get out with your 'musts.' I don't know any, I can tell you, and as for going around to tell a lot of people what's none of my business, you won't see me doing it. I'm going home myself."
"Who will do it then?" demanded St. George just as sharply.
"Don't know," said Phipps doggedly, "only I know I won't, that's all." He returned the look his companion gave him with another no pleasanter, and every whit as determined.
"And you mean to let those fathers and mothers go all night without knowing where in creation the chaps are?" cried the other boy in the seat, every feature ablaze with indignation. "Say?"