greeting and defiance were answered by those of the Randall lads, who came pouring out on the campus.
"My deed—where is my deed? Give it to me!" repeated the stranger, eagerly.
Tom turned on him like a flash.
"Look here!" the end cried. "I don't know you, and I don't know what your game is. But I do know that we've got the deed, and that we're going to keep it. Now, you get out of here, and don't come back. We're going to play football, and if you want to make any claim, you go to the Randall lawyers. Now—vamoose!"
Tom pointed to the door. The man looked at him defiantly, and seemed about to leap at the lad. Then, with a slinking glance, he departed.
"Well," remarked Phil, as the echoes of his footsteps died away down the corridor, "what do you think of that?"
"Isn't it the limit?" demanded Sid.
"Worse and more of it," added Frank. "I wonder"
"No time to wonder now," interrupted Tom, briskly. "We haven't anything to worry about from that chap. The deed is safe. Now, come on, get into our togs, and wipe up the ground with Boxer Hall."
