LANGRIDGE HAS A TUMBLE
Out into the corridor went the three lads with the old sofa. It was no
easy task, but they managed to get it out of the east dormitory, where
they had roomed for a year, and then they began the journey across a
stretch of grass to the west building.
The appearance of the three boys, carrying a dilapidated sofa, as
tenderly as though it were some rare and fragile object, attracted the
attention of a crowd of students. The lads swarmed over to surround the
movers.
"Well, would you look at that!" exclaimed Holman, otherwise known as
"Holly," Cross. "Have you had a fire, Tom?"
"No; they've been to an auction sale of antiques, and this is the bed
on which Louis XIV slept the night before he ate the Welsh rarebit,"
declared Ed Kerr, the champion catcher on the 'varsity nine. "Why don't
you label it, Phil, so a fellow would know what it is?"
"You get out of the way!" exclaimed Tom good-naturedly.
"This side up, with care. Store in a cool, dry place, and water
frequently," quoted Billy Housenlager, who rejoiced in the title of
Dutch. "Here, let me see if I can jump over it while it is in motion,"
he added, for he was full of "horseplay," and always anxious to try
something new. He took a running start, and was about to leap full upon
the sofa, when, at a signal from Phil, the three chums set the spliced
piece of furniture on the grass.
"What's the matter?" asked Dutch indignantly. "Can't you give a fellow a
chance to practice jumping? I can beat Grasshopper Backus, now."
"You can not!" exclaimed the owner of the title. "I'm sure to make the
track team this term, and then you'll see what----"
"Say," put in another student, "my uncle says that when he was here he
used to jump----"
"Drown him!"
"Stuff grass in his mouth!"
"Make him eat the horsehair in the sofa!"
"Swallow it!"
"Chew it up!"
These were some of the cries of derision that greeted Ford Fenton's
mention of his uncle. The gentleman had once been a coach at Randall,
and a very good one, too, but his nephew was doing much to spoil his
reputation.
For, at every chance he got, and at times when there was no opportunity
but such as he made, Ford would quote his aforesaid uncle, upon any and
all subjects, to the no small disapproval of his college mates. So they
had gotten into the habit of "rigging" him every time he mentioned his
relative.
"I don't care," Ford said, when the chorus of exclamations had ceased.
"My uncle----"
But he got no further, for the students made a rush for him and buried
him out of sight in a pile of wriggling arms and legs.
"First down; ten yards to gain!" yelled some one.
"Come on, now's our chance," said Tom. "First thing we know they'll do
that to our sofa, and then it will be all up with the poor old thing.
Let's move on."
Once more the chums took up their burden, and walked toward the west
dormitory. By this time the throng had done with punishing poor Fenton,
and once more turned its attention to the movers.
"Going to split it up for firewood?" called Ed Kerr.
"No; it's full of germs, and they're going to dig 'em out and use 'em
in the biology class," suggested Dan Woodhouse, who was more commonly
called Kindlings.
"Maybe they're going to make a folding bed of it," came from Bricktop
Molloy. "Come on, fellows, let's investigate."
The crowd of fun-loving students hurried after the three lads carrying
the sofa.
"They're coming!" exclaimed Tom.
"Let's drop the sofa and cut for it?" proposed Sid. "They'll make a
rough house if they catch us."
"I'm not going to desert the sofa!" exclaimed Tom.
"Nor I. I'll stick by you--'I will stand at thy right hand, and guard
the bridge with thee,'" quoted Phil. "But if we put a little more speed
on we can get to the dormitory, and that will be sanctuary, I guess.
Come on; run, fellows!"
It was awkward work, running and carrying a clumsy sofa, but they
managed it. Holly Cross caught up to them as they were at the door of
the building.
"Ah, let's have the old ark," he pleaded. "We'll make a bonfire of it,
and circle about it to-night, after we haze some freshies. Give us the
old relic, Tom."
"Not on your life!" exclaimed the crack pitcher of the 'varsity nine.
"This is our choicest possession, Holly. It goes wherever we go."
"Well, it won't go much longer," observed Holly. "One of its legs is
coming off."
Almost as he spoke one of the sofa legs, probably jarred loose by the
unaccustomed rapid rate of progress, fell to the dormitory steps.
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" exclaimed Phil. "It's beginning to fall apart,
Tom."
"Never mind, you can nail it on. Sid, you carry the leg. The stairs are
so narrow that only two of us can manage the sofa. Phil and I will do
that, and you come in back to catch me, in case I fall."
Seeing that there was no chance to get the sofa away from its owners, to
make a college holiday with it, Holly Cross and his friends turned back
to look for another source of sport. Sid picked up the leg, and then,
with Phil mounting the stairs backward, carrying one end, and Tom
advancing and holding the other, the task was begun. Up the stairs they
went, and when they were half way there appeared at the head of the
flight two lads. They were both well dressed in expensive clothes, and
there was about them that indefinable air of "sportiness" which is so
easily recognizable but hard to acquire.
"Hello, what's this?" asked the foremost of the two, as he looked down
on the approaching cavalcade and the sofa. "Here, what do you fellows
mean by blocking up the stairway? Don't you know that no tradesmen are
allowed in this entrance?"
"Who are you talking to?" demanded Phil, not seeing who was speaking.
"It's Langridge," explained Tom, as he looked up and saw his former
enemy and rival.
"Oh, it's Parsons, Henderson and Clinton," went on Fred Langridge, as he
recognized some fellow students. Then, without apologizing for his
former words, he went on: "I say, you fellows will have to back down and
let me and Gerhart past. We are in a hurry."
"So are we," said Tom shortly. "I guess you can wait until we come up."
"No, I can't!" exclaimed Langridge. "You back up! You have no right to
block up the stairs this way!"
"Well, I guess we have," put in Sid. "We're moving some of our things to
our new room."
Langridge, followed by the other well-dressed lad, came down a few
steps. He saw the old sofa, and exclaimed:
"What! Do you mean to say that you fellows are moving that fuzzy-wuzzy
piece of architecture into this dormitory? I'll not stand for it! I'll
complain to the proctor! Why, it's full of disease germs!"
"Yes, and you're full of prune juice!" cried Phil Clinton, unable to
stand the arrogant words and manner of Langridge.
"Don't get gay with me!" exclaimed Tom's former rival.
"I'll lay you five to three that you can't jump over their heads and
clear the sofa," put in the other student, whom Langridge had called
Gerhart. "Do any of you fellows want to bet?" he asked rather
sneeringly, as he looked down at Tom, Phil and Sid.
"I guess not," answered Tom, good-naturedly enough.
"Ah, you're not sports, I see," rejoined Gerhart. "I thought you said
this was a sporty college, Langridge?"
"So it is, when you strike the right crowd, and not a lot of greasy
digs," was the answer. "I say, are you chaps going to move back and let
me and Gerhart pass?" he went on.
"No, we're not," replied Phil shortly. "You can wait until we get up. Go
on back now, Langridge, and we'll soon have this out of the way."
"Burning it up would be the best method of getting it out of the way,"
declared Langridge, still with that sneer in his voice. "I never saw
such a disgraceful piece of furniture. What do you fellows want with it?
Surely you're not going to put it in your room."
"That's just what we are going to do," declared Sid. "We wouldn't part
with this for a good bit, would we, fellows?"
"Nope," chorused Phil and Tom.
"Did it come over in the _Mayflower_?" asked Gerhart. "I'm willing to
bet ten to one that if you think it's an antique that you're stuck. How
about it?"
"You're quite a sport, aren't you, freshie?" asked Phil suddenly, for he
knew that the new student must belong to the first-year class.
"Of course I'm a sport, but if you go to calling names I'll show you
that I'm something else!" exclaimed the other fiercely. "If you want to
do a little something in the boxing line----"
"Dry up!" hastily advised Langridge in a whisper. "You're a freshman,
and you know it. They're sophomores, and so am I. Don't get gay."
"Well, they needn't insult a gentleman."
"Tell us when one's around, and we'll be on our good behavior," spoke
Phil with a laugh.
"Come, now, are you fellows going to back down and let us pass?" asked
Langridge hastily.
"Like the old guard, we die, but never surrender," spoke Tom. "We're not
going to back down, Langridge. It's easier for you to go back than for
us."
"Well, I'm not going to do it. You have no right to move your stuff in
here, anyhow. The rooms are furnished."
"We want our old chair and sofa," explained Sid.
"I should think you'd be ashamed to bring such truck into a decent
college," expostulated Langridge. "It looks as if it had been through a
fire in a second-hand store."
"That'll do you," remarked Phil. "This is our sofa, and we'll do as we
please with it."
"You won't block up my way, that's one thing you won't do," declared
Langridge fiercely. "I'm going down. Look out! If I upset you fellows it
won't be my fault."
He started down the stairs, and managed to squeeze past Phil, who,
though he did not like Langridge, moved as far to one side as possible
in the narrow passage. As Langridge passed the sofa he struck it with a
little cane he carried. A cloud of dust arose.
"Whew!" exclaimed the sporty lad. "Smell the germs! Wow! Get me some
disinfectant, Gerhart."
Whether it was the action of Langridge in hitting the sofa that caused
Tom to stagger, or whether Phil was unsteady on his feet and pushed on
the sofa, did not develop. At any rate, just as Langridge came opposite
to Tom on the stairs, the former pitcher was jostled against his rival.
Langridge stumbled, tried to save himself by clutching at Tom and then
at the sofa. He missed both, and, with a loud exclamation, plunged down
head first, bringing up with a resounding thud at the bottom.