that when he was here he used to jump——”

“Drown him!”

“Stuff grass in his mouth!”

“Make him eat the horsehair in the sofa!”

“Swallow it!”

“Chew it up!”

These were some of the cries of derision that greeted Ford Fenton’s mention of his uncle. The gentleman had once been a coach at Randall, and a very good one, too, but his nephew was doing much to spoil his reputation.

For, at every chance he got, and at times when there was no opportunity but such as he made, Ford would quote his aforesaid uncle, upon any and all subjects, to the no small disapproval of his college mates. So they had gotten into the habit of “rigging” him every time he mentioned his relative.

“I don’t care,” Ford said, when the chorus of exclamations had ceased. “My uncle——”

But he got no further, for the students made a rush for him and buried him out of sight in a pile of wriggling arms and legs.

“First down; ten yards to gain!” yelled some one.

“Come on, now’s our chance,” said Tom. “First thing we know they’ll do that to our sofa, and then it will be all up with the poor old thing. Let’s move on.”

Once more the chums took up their burden, and walked toward the west dormitory. By this time the throng had done with punishing poor Fenton, and once more turned its attention to the movers.

“Going to split it up for firewood?” called Ed Kerr.

“No; it’s full of germs, and they’re going to dig ’em out and use ’em in the biology class,” suggested Dan Woodhouse, who was more commonly called Kindlings.

“Maybe they’re going to make a folding bed of it,” came from Bricktop Molloy. “Come on, fellows, let’s investigate.”

The crowd of fun-loving students hurried after the three lads carrying the sofa.

“They’re coming!” exclaimed Tom.

“Let’s drop the sofa and cut for it?” proposed Sid. “They’ll make a rough house if they catch us.”

“I’m not going to desert the sofa!” exclaimed Tom.

“Nor I. I’ll stick by you—‘I will stand at thy right hand, and guard the bridge with thee,’” quoted Phil. “But if we put a little more speed on we can get to the dormitory, and that will be sanctuary, I guess. Come on; run, fellows!”

It was awkward work, running and carrying a clumsy sofa, but they managed it. Holly Cross caught up to them as they were at the door of the building.

“Ah, let’s have the old ark,” he pleaded. “We’ll make a bonfire of it, and circle about it to-night, after we haze some freshies. Give us the old relic, Tom.”

“Not on your life!” exclaimed the crack pitcher of the ’varsity nine. “This is our choicest possession, Holly. It goes wherever we go.”

“Well, it won’t go much longer,” observed Holly. “One of its legs is coming off.”

Almost as he spoke one of the sofa legs, probably jarred loose by the unaccustomed rapid rate of progress, fell to the dormitory steps.

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” exclaimed Phil. “It’s beginning to fall apart, Tom.”

“Never mind, you can nail it on. Sid, you carry the leg. The stairs are so narrow that only two of us can manage the sofa. Phil and I will do that, and you come in back to catch me, in case I fall.”

Seeing that there was no chance to get the sofa away from its owners, to make a college holiday with it, Holly Cross and his friends turned back to look for another source of sport. Sid picked up the leg, and then, with Phil mounting the stairs backward, carrying one end, and Tom advancing and holding the other, the task was begun. Up the stairs they went, and when they were half way there appeared at the head of the flight two lads. They were both well dressed in expensive clothes, and there was about them that indefinable air of “sportiness” which is so easily recognizable but hard to acquire.

“Hello, what’s this?” asked the foremost of the two, as he looked down on the approaching cavalcade and the sofa. “Here, what do you fellows mean by blocking up the stairway? Don’t you know that no tradesmen are allowed in this entrance?”

“Who are you talking to?” demanded Phil, not seeing who was speaking.

“It’s Langridge,” explained Tom, as he looked up and saw his former enemy and rival.

“Oh, it’s Parsons, Henderson and Clinton,” went on Fred Langridge, as he recognized some fellow students. Then, without apologizing for his former words, he went on: “I say, you fellows will have to back down and let me and Gerhart past. We are in a hurry.”

“So are we,” said Tom shortly. “I guess you can wait until we come up.”

“No, I can’t!” exclaimed Langridge. “You back up! You have no right to block up the stairs this way!”

“Well, I guess we have,” put in Sid. “We’re moving some of our things to our new room.”

Langridge, followed by the other well-dressed lad, came down a few steps. He saw the old sofa, and exclaimed:

“What! Do you mean to say that you fellows are moving that fuzzy-wuzzy piece of architecture into this dormitory? I’ll not stand for it! I’ll complain to the proctor! Why, it’s full of disease germs!”

“Yes, and you’re full of prune juice!” cried Phil Clinton, unable to stand the arrogant words and manner of Langridge.

“Don’t get gay with me!” exclaimed Tom’s former rival.

“I’ll lay you five to three that you can’t jump over their heads and clear the sofa,” put in the other student, whom Langridge had called Gerhart. “Do any of you fellows want to bet?” he asked rather sneeringly, as he looked down at Tom, Phil and Sid.

“I guess not,” answered Tom, good-naturedly enough.

“Ah, you’re not sports, I see,” rejoined Gerhart. “I thought you said this was a sporty college, Langridge?”

“So it is, when you strike the right crowd, and not a lot of greasy digs,” was the answer. “I say, are you chaps going to move back and let me and Gerhart pass?” he went on.

“No, we’re not,” replied Phil shortly. “You can wait until we get up. Go on back now, Langridge, and we’ll soon have this out of the way.”

“Burning it up would be the best method of getting it out of the way,” declared Langridge, still with that sneer in his voice. “I never saw such a disgraceful piece of furniture. What do you fellows want with it? Surely you’re not going to put it in your room.”

“That’s just what we are going to do,” declared Sid. “We wouldn’t part with this for a good bit, would we, fellows?”

“Nope,” chorused Phil and Tom.

“Did it come over in the Mayflower?” asked Gerhart. “I’m willing to bet ten to one that if you think it’s an antique that you’re stuck. How about it?”

“You’re quite a sport, aren’t you, freshie?” asked Phil suddenly, for he knew that the new student must belong to the first-year class.

“Of course I’m a sport, but if you go to calling names I’ll show you that I’m something else!” exclaimed the other fiercely. “If you want to do a little something in the boxing line——”

“Dry up!” hastily advised Langridge in a whisper. “You’re a freshman, and you know it. They’re sophomores, and so am I. Don’t get gay.”

“Well, they needn’t insult a gentleman.”

“Tell us when one’s around, and we’ll be on our good behavior,” spoke Phil with a laugh.

“Come, now, are you fellows going to back down and let us pass?” asked Langridge hastily.

“Like the old guard, we