CHAPTER XVI

PHIL IS NERVOUS

Langridge struggled to his feet, anger rendering him almost speechless. He started toward Phil, who stood in the attitude of a trained boxer, awaiting the attack. The light from a new moon faintly illuminated the scene, and the figures stood out with considerable distinctness against the background of the dark building.

Wallops, the messenger, was shrinking away, anxious to escape unobserved, though he cast a look of gratitude at Phil. Tom was surprised at his chum's sudden attack, but he stood ready to aid him, in case Gerhart should make an effort to take sides. As for Phil and Langridge, they faced each other, one eager with righteous anger to continue the chastisement, the other mad with the lust of shame and unreasoning.

"What--what did you do that for?" asked Langridge thickly, and his hand went to his jaw where Phil's fist had landed. His head was singing yet from the powerful blow.

"You know why," replied Phil calmly. "Because you're a coward."

"Hold on!" cried the bully, taking a step forward. "I've stood about all I'm going to from you."

He looked around at Gerhart. The freshman stood passive, and Langridge showed some surprise.

"Aren't you going to stand by me?" asked the sophomore of his ally.

"Of course," muttered Gerhart, but there was no heart in his tones. He remembered what his crony had said regarding Phil's prowess.

"Certainly," put in Tom with gentle voice. "We'll make a quartet of it, if you like."

"What are you interfering with my affairs for?" went on Langridge, taking no notice of Tom.

"Because it's the affair of any decent college man to interfere when he catches a dirty coward beating a fellow smaller than he is!" and Phil fairly bit off the words.

"Take care!" cried Langridge. "You're going too far. I'll make a class matter of it if you call me a coward again!"

"I wish you would!" burst out Phil. "I'd like to make a charge against you before the whole college! Beating Wallops because he's smaller than you are!"

"That wasn't it. He didn't do as I told him, and was insolent."

"Who gave you the right to assume a mastery over him? Besides, from what I heard, you had evidently ordered him to do something against the rules."

"Ah! So you were sneaking around to listen, were you?" sneered Langridge.

"You know better than that, or I'd answer you in the same way I did at first," replied Phil. "If you send Wallops for liquor again I shall inform Dr. Churchill."

"I always thought you were a tattling cad!" burst out Langridge. "Now I know it!"

Hardly were the words out of his mouth ere Phil was beside him. The quarter-back was fairly trembling, and his voice shook as he shot out the words:

"Take that back! Take it back, I say, or--or I'll----"

He paused, emotion overcoming him, but from the manner in which he drew back his powerful left arm Langridge stepped aside apprehensively.

"Well, you haven't any right to interfere in my affairs," he whined.

"Do you take back what you said?" demanded Phil fiercely, and he laid a trembling hand on the shoulder of the bully.

"Take your hand from me!" exclaimed Langridge. "Yes--I suppose I've got to--I can't fight a professional pugilist," he added with an uneasy laugh.

"Thanks for the compliment," spoke Phil grimly. "I guess this can end where it is. As for you, Gerhart, if I thought you had any other part in this than being a tool of this coward, I'd give you the soundest thrashing you ever had."

The freshman did not answer, and when Langridge turned aside Gerhart followed him into the shadows. Poor Wallops waited until they were out of sight, then the messenger trailed after Phil and Tom. On the way he haltingly told the chums that Langridge had been in the habit of sending him to town to purchase stimulants for him. It had come to the point where that night where the bartender had refused to sell any more liquor, warning having been given that sales to minors were becoming too frequent. It was the failure of Wallops to return with the whisky that angered Langridge.

"Don't say anything about this, Wallops," advised Phil. "Langridge won't bother you again. If he does, let me know."

"Yes, sir, and thank you, Mr. Clinton. I'll not tell."

"I guess Langridge and Gerhart won't, either," commented Tom. "They'll be glad to let it drop."

"What cads those fellows are," remarked Phil a little later, when he and Tom, having had a refreshing shower bath, were preparing for bed in their room.

"Well, you took some of it out of Langridge, at all events," said the pitcher.

"Maybe, but it will come back. I suppose I'll have to be on the lookout now, or he may do me a dirty turn."

"Shouldn't wonder. I had my troubles with him last term. But I thought he was going to do better this season."

"He can't seem to, evidently."

"Say," exclaimed Sid, poking his head from beneath the sheet, "I wish you fellows would let a chap sleep. What are you chinning about?"

They told him, and, wide awake, he sat up and listened to the whole story.

"I wish I'd seen it," he said. "It would have been as good as a football game. By the way, who does the team play this week, Phil?"

"Oh, we've got a little game with the Haddonfield Prep. School. Doesn't amount to much. Some of the subs will play, I fancy."

"I hope Holly doesn't make the mistake of despising an enemy," went on Sid. "Do you know, Phil, it seems to me that our fellows haven't struck their gait yet."

"Well, it's early in the season," said Tom.

"I know that," went on Sid, "but they ought to have more vim. There's a curious lack of ginger noticed. _You_ didn't play with your usual snap, Phil."

"I know it," was the almost unexpected answer from the quarter-back. "I wondered if any one noticed it."

"I did," added Tom, "but I wasn't going to say anything. I thought it was because it was the first game."

"No," said Phil slowly, "it wasn't that. I'm all unstrung--nervous--that's what's the matter."

"You nervous!" exclaimed Sid. "I wouldn't have believed that. What's the matter?"

"It's my mother," said Phil quietly, and there was a strange tone in his voice.

"She--she's not worse--is she?" asked Tom, and the room became curiously quiet.

"No," answered Phil; "but I can't tell what moment she may be. Fellows, I'm living in constant fear of receiving a message that--that she--that she's dead!"