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A GAME OF ANOTHER SORT
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not come. Tom did not want to leave him, for he had heard that Langridge did not stand any too well with the faculty, and a few more demerits would mean that he would have to give up athletics. So Tom determined that, if possible, he would get the foolish lad within bounds in time.

But it was a useless undertaking, and Tom heard nine strokes boom out on the chapel bell when they were some distance from college.

"That cooks our goose!" he exclaimed. "It doesn't so much matter for me, as it's the first time, but Langridge will suffer if he's caught in this plight."

He redoubled his persuasive powers and by dint of much talk at length induced Langridge to get up and come on. But it was half-past nine now and it was twenty minutes to ten, when, with his arm linked in that of the lad he was trying to save in spite of himself, Tom walked up the campus to get to the dormitory.

The watchman opened the door at his knock. Langridge had slipped behind Tom and stood in the deep shadow.

"After hours," said the man simply. "You will report to the proctor to-morrow morning, Mr. Parsons."

"Yes," replied Tom simply. Langridge was moving uneasily about in the shadows on the stone steps.