BURT L. STANDISH Ultimate Collection: 24 Action Thrillers in One Volume (Illustrated) - Burt L. Standish

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first, and by the time they discovered their mistake you were knocking them around like tenpins. One chap insists you broke his jaw."

      "Well, I am glad I did that much. I didn't mean to leave you, Harry. Billy's was so near I thought I could get the boys out and rescue you before they could carry you off. I couldn't rescue you alone, so I ran here to stir up the fellows."

      "That was right. I was glad you got away. They were laying for you. They told me so."

      "Well, come back, and we'll wash this stuff off you."

      "I don't know as you can do it."

      "Eh? Why not?"

      "They said it was put on to stay a while. They told me we were so fond of playing the noble red man's part that they would fix me so I could play it for a week or two. Some of them advised me to use sand to scrub myself with if I hoped to get the paint off."

      "Oh, that must be all a bluff. It will come off easy enough if a little cocoa butter is used on it. Here, somebody run out to a drug store and get some cocoa butter."

      After they had worked about fifteen minutes they looked at each other in dismay, for they had scarcely been able to start the paint, and it become plain that cocoa butter, soap and water would not take it off.

      "Didn't I tell you?" murmured Harry, sorrowfully. "I'm done for! I'll never be able to get it off! I'll have to go out West and live with the Sioux! If I do I'll take along the scalps of a few sophomores!"

      They continued to work on him for nearly an hour, but were unable to get off more than a certain portion of the paint. Harry was still grotesquely decorated when the boys arrived at the conclusion that further scrubbing with the materials at hand was useless.

      Then Frank went out and rang up a druggist who had gone to bed, for it was after midnight. He told the man the sort of scrape his friend was in and offered the druggist inducements to give him something to remove the paint.

      The druggist said it could not be paint, but must be some sort of staining, and he gave Frank a preparation.

      Frank went back and tried the stuff on Harry. It removed a certain amount of the stain, but did not remove it all.

      At last, being thoroughly worn out, Rattleton said:

      "I'll give it up for to-night, fellows. Perhaps I'll be able to get the rest off in the morning. I'll poultice my face and neck. But you'll have to watch out, Frank. They say they will use you worse than this when they get hold of you."

      For the time the sophomores seemed to have the best of the game.

      CHAPTER XII.

       FRESHMAN AGAINST SOPHOMORE.

       Table of Contents

      On the following morning a large piece of cardboard Swung from the door of Merriwell and Rattleton's room in Mrs. Harrington's boarding house. On the cardboard was this inscription:

      "Good-morning!

       Have you used

       Soap?"

      Harry was up at an early hour industriously scrubbing away. He succeeded fairly well, but despite his utmost efforts the coloring refused to come off entirely.

      And it was absolutely necessary that he should attend chapel.

      On their way to chapel Frank and Harry came face to face with Professor Such, who peered at them sharply and said:

      "Good-morning, gentlemen."

      "Good-morning, professor," returned the boys.

      Harry tried to keep behind Frank, so that his face would not be noticed. The professor was nearsighted, but he immediately noted Rattleton's queer actions, and he placed himself in front of the boys, adjusting his spectacles.

      "Hang his curiosity!" muttered Harry in disgust.

      "Eh?" said the professor, scratching his chin with one finger and peering keenly at Harry. "Did you speak, sir?"

      "Yes, sir—I mean no, sir," spluttered Harry, while Frank stepped aside and stood laughing silently to himself.

      "I thought you did. Er—what's the matter with your face, young man?"

      "That's the result of my last attack of chilblains," said Harry, desperately. "They hent to my wed—I mean they went to my head."

      "Eh?"

      The professor seemed to doubt if he had heard correctly, while Merriwell nearly exploded.

      Rattleton looked frightened when he came to think what he had said. He felt like taking to his heels and running for his life.

      "Chilblains, sir?" came severely from Professor Such. "Sir—sir, do not attempt to be facetious with me! You will regret it if you do!"

      Cold sweat started out on Harry's forehead, and he looked appealingly toward his companion; but Frank had turned away to conceal his merriment.

      "I—I don't think I—I understood your—your question," stammered Harry. "I'm a little heard of haring—I mean hard of hearing."

      "I asked you what was the matter with your face, sir."

      "Oh, my face! Ha! ha! He! he! I thought you said something about my pace, because I was walking so slowly. That made me fancy you were interested to know what ails my feet. Excuse me! I beg your pardon, professor!"

      "Hum!" coughed the professor, again scratching his chin with the tip of his finger, while he peered through his spectacles, plainly still somewhat suspicious. "It is rather remarkable that you should get things mixed in such a manner."

      "I am not feeling well, professor, not at all."

      And it was apparent to Frank that Harry told the truth.

      "You are not looking well," came somewhat sarcastically from Professor Such's lips. "Your countenance has a strangely mottled hue."

      "It comes from Injun jestion," explained Merriwell, coming to his roommate's relief.

      "Eh? From what, sir."

      "From indigestion," said Frank, very soberly. "He is much troubled that way."

      "Much troubled! much troubled!" exclaimed the professor, whose ear had been offended and who immediately turned his attention on Frank. "I advise you to be somewhat more choice and careful of your language, young man. There is a right and a wrong use of words."

      Just then the chapel bell clanged, and the professor exclaimed:

      "Bless me! we'll be late if we're not careful!"

      Away he hurried.

      Frank and Harry followed him, and as they went along Harry expressed his feelings forcibly and violently.

      "How dare you howl before me?" laughed Frank.

      "Excuse me," said Rattleton. "I didn't know you wanted to howl first."

      At chapel Harry felt that the eyes of everybody were upon him. He kept one hand up to his face as much as possible, but he saw the sophomores smiling covertly and winking among themselves. He longed to get even; that was his one burning ambition and desire.

      When the service was over the freshmen stood and bowed to the faculty as they passed out. They were supposed to keep bowing to the seniors, juniors and sophomores, but that custom had long been a dead letter at Yale. The freshmen had become too independent for such a thing.

      However, they stood and saw the upper classmen go past, and it seemed to poor Harry that every fellow stared at him and grinned. The sophs added to his misery and anger by winking at him, and Tad Horner ventured to go through a swift pantomime of taking a scalp.

      "Oh, I am liable to have yours yet," thought Harry.

      On their way back to their rooms Harry and Frank were greeted

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