Jack took out a key and unlocked the padlock, while Bingham removed the bar, Carker holding the candle.
Then the door was yanked open, and the light of the candle shone into the room beyond. It showed them, sitting on a box and calmly waiting, the well-known figure of the long-haired freshman poet!
“Yah!” snarled Jack Ready, jumping in and pouncing on Boltwood. “So you are here, are you?”
“Well, where in thunder did you think I’d be?” growled the freshman sulkily. “I hope you are satisfied with your scurvy trick!”
“Scurvy trick, hey?” cried Jack, growing warm. “Be careful! Your language is offensive, sir!”
“Well, you haven’t done anything to me that was offensive, have you? You think you can do just as you hanged please without anybody saying a word. But I’ll fix you! I’ll write a poem about you!”
“Yes, I will. I’ve made up my mind to that, and I’ve been composing some of the stanzas while you’ve kept me locked up here.”
“Oh, you have? Well, you want to get them right out of your head.”
They led the freshman forth and made their way from the old building. As they departed, the man they had paid for watching stood at a distance and chuckled.
“Well, this has been a great night’s work,” he muttered. “Both chaps paid me a fiver. Ten dollars for doing nothing! I’d like to make a strike like that every night.”
The sophomores led Boltwood to the cab, into which they thrust him. Then they piled in, the door slammed, and the cab rolled away.
“Now,” said Ready, when they were all in the cab, “I want you to repeat some of the poetry you have composed about me.”
“You won’t like it,” said Boltwood, with a chuckle.
“There was a little Jack, And it came to pass That this poor little Jack Became a jackass.”
Bingham snorted, and Carker made some sort of a gurgling sound.
“I don’t think I’ll repeat any more of it,” said Boltwood, in a tone of voice that seemed to tremble with apprehension.
“Perhaps you hadn’t better!” said Ready coldly. “That is quite enough.”
“I admit,” said Boltwood, “that it contains more truth than poetry.”
“You’re altogether too gay, my fresh young friend!” cried Jack, getting hold of Boltwood and giving him a shake.
“Oh, I think you are mistaken!” exclaimed Boltwood, getting hold of Jack and giving him a fiercer shake.