The altercation was attracting considerable attention. A grinning crowd, industriously calling upon the two principals to "mix it up a bit," presently brought the realization to Tom that his thoughtless remark uttered in the gymnasium was being scattered broadcast.
"Said Mr. Barry was an eccentric old creature!" jeered Benny, "and has the nerve to try and call me down for something not a quarter as bad!"
"You've got the tall one going!" cried an Engleton boy, encouragingly. "Don't be skeered. Wade right into him."
"I'll sic a goat on him; that's what I'll do!" exclaimed Benny.
"Hello, Tom Clifton! Hello, Tom!" coming over the air was the most pleasant sound the first baseman had heard for some time. "We're ready for practice," continued the voice—Roger Steele's. "Hello, Tom! Where are you?"
"Coming!" bawled Tom. Then darting an angry, flustered look at his little tormentor, he added: "I haven't done with you yet, Benny Wilkins."
"Is that so?" sneered Benny. "If you and Blake had sense enough to get off the team maybe all this row in the school would come to an end."
"Do you think I'll stand for being pushed off? Well, I rather guess not!" cried Tom.
"Have a wooden head-piece, have I? Well, it isn't a solid block like yours. Just remember: If the school doesn't get those grounds T. 'Vanitas' Clifton will be one of the chaps who's most responsible. Everybody's saying it."
Embarrassed and confused by the staring, noisy crowd, so full of emotion that his tongue seemed almost incapable of framing the words he wished to utter, the first baseman turned away.