The tone was so easy and friendly that Tom thought he might be going to
apologize. He let him look.
"Well, you got that," Tad went on. "Another time you'll get worse. By
God, if you don't keep away from me I'll shoot you."
Tom was surprised, but it was the sort of situation in which he could
be cool. He smiled into the arrogant young face turned up toward his.
"What's the good of that line of talk? You know you wouldn't shoot me;
you wouldn't have the nerve. Besides, you haven't anything to shoot me
_for_. I'll leave it to this fellow." He turned to Tad's companion, who
stood as a spectator, slightly to one side. "I found him dead drunk the
other night. I took him home in a taxi, and put him to bed. That's no
more than the common freemasonry among men. Any man would do the same
at a pinch for any other man."
The companion played up nobly. "That's the straight dope, Tad. Take it
and gulp it down. This guy is a good guy or he wouldn't have--"
"Go to hell," Tad interrupted, insolently. "I'm only warning him. If he
hangs round me any more--"
Tom kept his temper by main force, addressing himself still to the
companion.
"I've never hung round him. He knows I haven't. Two or three times I've
run into him, as I've done to-day. Twice I've stepped in, to keep him
from getting the gate, this time as a drunk, the other time as a damn
fool. I'd do that for anyone. I'd do it for him, if I found him in the
same mess again."
"That's fair enough, Tad," the referee approved. "You can't kick
against it."
Tad tried to speak, but Tom went on with quiet authority.
"So that since he likes warnings he can take that one. I shan't let him
be chucked out of Harvard if I can help it."