"Nope; haven't time, Gladdus. Here, some of you hold 'em while the rest of us douse 'em."
In an instant Sid and Tom were grasped each by half a dozen hands and pulled to the middle of the room. Then Broken-nose and some others took the two water pitchers and poured the contents over the two freshmen. It was not a pleasant ordeal, but Tom and his chum bore it unflinchingly. It was useless to struggle.
"Oh, this is no fun!" exclaimed Gladdus. "They don't fight."
"The odds are too heavy," retorted Tom quickly. "I'll take any one of you alone," he added, and he looked as if he meant it.
"Let me take him on," pleaded a tall sophomore.
"No—none of that," declared Broken-nose, who was addressed as Fenmore. "We've got lots to do yet. I wonder where their good clothes are. They've got on old togs. We'll give 'em a soaking."
Tom and Sid were glad that they had hidden their garments in the hall closet. There was a hasty search on the part of the sophomores, but as nothing was disclosed the second-year men prepared to leave.
"Come on," ordered Fenmore. "There's no water left in their pitchers, anyhow."
"Oh, we could get more H2O if we could find their togs," spoke another.
