# The Winning Touchdown/Chapter 15
#### CHAPTER XV
##### THE MIDNIGHT BLAZE

Dripping, shivering, very much chagrined, and somewhat bruised and lame from their encounter with the student they had expected to haze so easily, Holly Cross, Dutch Housenlager and the others gathered in a little disconsolate group.
Tom, Phil and Sid, hiding in the bushes, and trying to stifle their snickers of mirth, looked at the scene, which was thrown into partial relief by the moon.
"I wonder how they feel?" came from Tom.
"Don't let them hear you," cautioned Phil, "or they'll vow and declare that we were in on the game, and knew how it was going to turn out."
"That's right," agreed Sid.
But now someone in the group of hazers spoke. It was the puzzled and dubious voice of Dutch Housenlager.
"I say, does anyone know what happened?" he asked.
​"We must have been struck by a cyclone," declared Holly.
"Or a waterspout," added Bascome. "Bur-r-r-r-r! But it's cold! I'm going to cut for college!"
"Who said he was easy?" demanded Holly Cross. "Was it you, Dutch?"
"Who, me? No, I never said such a thing! Perish the thought! Easy!"
"The hardest proposition I've stacked up against in a long while," said another, rubbing his elbow. "Jove! how he did hit out!"
"And so sudden!" commented Dutch.
"Well, did you think he was going to send word on ahead when he was going to land on you?" asked Jerry Jackson. "Come on. We've had enough."
"Too much," added his brother. "I suppose this will be all over Randall in the morning."
"Not if I have to tell it," insisted Bascome.
"But Simpson may squeal."
"He'd be justified," asserted another. "He has one on us, all right."
"I believe he's too square to say anything about it," spoke Jerry.
And so it proved. The next morning, when the big Californian met his classmates, there was a calm smile on his face, but neither by word nor action did he refer to what had taken place.
​But, somehow, the story leaked out. Perhaps it was because Tom, Phil and Sid could not refrain from publicly asking Dutch and the others how the hazing had resulted.
"Did you duck Simpson?" inquired Tom, as they were on their way to chapel next morning.
"Why didn't you come and help with the fun, if you're so anxious to know about it?" inquired Dutch, non-committally.
"Oh, we don't care for baths in the river this time of the year," remarked Phil, with a laugh, and then Dutch knew that the story was known, though Tom and his two chums said nothing about having been concealed where they had a grandstand view of the whole performance.
There were now busy days at Randall, for football was in full sway. As a result of the Newkirk game, several shifts were made by coach and captain, and hard practice was called for. The California lad was given a chance on the regular against the scrub, and there was talk that he would permanently replace Sam Looper. It was felt that Randall had not done herself much credit thus far on the gridiron, and there were many anxious hearts in consequence. But the members of the eleven made up their minds to do or die, and they went against the scrub so fiercely that several members of that unfortunate contingent had to go to the hospital for repairs, ​or else report disabled. Then the coach and captain smiled grimly, and were not so worried about the result of the Fairview and Boxer Hall games.
It was practice, practice, practice, early and late, until some of the members of the Varsity felt like falling on the exacting Mr. Lighton and tearing him limb from limb. But they knew it was for their good, and that they needed it.
Our three friends were in their room one evening, talking of various matters, and incidentally speculating on the loss of their clock and chair. They had not had much time, of late, on account of football, to seek for clews, and they had about given up hope of recovering their possessions.
"Well, it will soon be time to go up against Fairview," remarked Tom, as he looked critically at a big leather patch he had sewed on the shoulder of his canvas jacket. "I do hope we win."
"Same here, old man," added Phil, who was inspecting a new leather helmet he had just purchased. "I think——"
He was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Come in!" cried Sid, who was trying to study, but making little headway at it. Frank Simpson entered.
"Well, you fellows are nice and cozy here," he remarked. "Am I intruding?"
"Not a bit! Come on in, and make yourself at home!" called Tom, heartily, shoving a pile of ​miscellaneous articles off one end of the sofa, to make room for the visitor.
"Just sit down sort of easy, please," cautioned Sid, as he motioned toward the couch. "One of the bottom boards is loose, and it may come down, especially——"
"As I'm not exactly a featherweight," finished Frank. "I'll be careful. I got through with my stuff, and didn't have anything to do, so I thought I'd drop in."
"Yes, we live by the river; when you're down that way, drop in," said Phil, and there was a laugh at the joke and reference.
"I didn't see you fellows out there," remarked the lad from the West, with a motion of his head toward the stream.
"No, we had another engagement," remarked Tom.
"Speaking of engagements, reminds me of something!" exclaimed Phil, pulling a note from his pocket. "Ruth wrote me yesterday to come over to Fairview to-night, and bring you fellows. There's some sort of doings—giving a Greek play, or something like that, and a feed after it. I forgot all about it."
"Say, you're a nice one!" cried Tom, jumping up and looking at the new clock.
"I should say yes!" added Sid. "Is it too late to go now?"
​"Guess not," drawled Phil. "If you fellows think we can escape the eagle eye of Proc. Zane, I'm willing, are you?"
"Sure we are!" cried Phil and Tom, eagerly. "We can pull on our best duds, and catch the next trolley. Zane can go hang! I guess we can slip in all right!"
"I reckon I'd better be off then,"' spoke Simpson, as he arose to go. "You haven't any too much room to get dressed, all three at once."
"No, don't go," begged Phil. "That is go and get togged up, and come back. Go along with us over to Fairview. My sister said she'd like to meet you. I was telling her about you."
"Do you mean it?" asked the Californian earnestly, for he liked social pleasures, and he had not met any girls, as yet.
"Sure, come along!" urged Tom and Sid. "We can fix you up with a girl, I guess."
"Kind of you," murmured Frank. "I believe I will go."
A little later, the four caught a trolley car for Fairview Institute, where they were met by Phil's sister and the other young ladies, who were glad to see them. There was a little amateur theatrical, followed by a dance and supper, and Frank Simpson was made to feel very much at home, for the girls took to him at once.
It was long past midnight when our four ​friends alighted from the car, and stood for a moment, before starting toward their college.
"What'll we do if we're caught by Zane?" asked Tom, for there was every likelihood of that happening. They had known it all the while, but did not like to think of it when the fun was at its height.
"If he nabs us, we'll have to put up with it," said Phil.
"It's easy enough to say," commented Sid, "but you know Prexy made quite a talk about it the other day, and said that anyone who was caught out late would be severely dealt with. It might mean being barred off the team."
"Jove! You don't want that to happen," remarked Frank. "Isn't there some back way we can sneak in?"
"Proc. Zane knows 'em all," asserted Tom. "We might try it around by the chapel, though. He isn't there quite so often as he is around the court and campus."
"Go ahead," urged Phil, grimly. "Might as well be killed for a lobster as a crab."
They stole silently forward, looking cautiously around for a sight of the proctor. They had almost reached the chapel, and were hoping that the remainder of the way would be clear, when Tom, who was in advance, suddenly uttered a hiss.
"What is it?" whispered Phil.
​"Zane—right ahead there."
Pausing in the shadows, they peered forward. There stood the proctor directly in the path they must cross to get into college.
"Just our luck!" groaned Sid, dismally.
They hesitated a moment, not knowing what to do. To be caught, just after the president's solemn warning, might mean severe punishment.
"Can't we——" began Tom, and then Frank Simpson, who was a little in the rear, suddenly uttered an exclamation.
"Fellows, look!" he called, in a hoarse whisper. "There's a fire!"
Startled, they looked to where he pointed. Through the windows of the chapel could be seen little tongues of flame, leaping up inside. The building was ablaze.
For a moment, the boys did not know what to do. Then Tom called:
"Come on, fellows! We've got to put that out! There are extinguishers right in the vestibule, and we can break down the door. Lively! We've got to fight the blaze, and give the alarm! Ring the bell!"
They needed no other urging. Without another glance at the proctor, who had turned back toward the college, the four lads rushed silently toward the chapel. It was the work of but a moment for their sturdy shoulders to break in the ​outer door. Then, catching up several chemical extinguishers, they sprang in through the swinging inner portals. There was a lively blaze in the floor, just over the furnace.
"Douse it! Douse it!" yelled Tom, making a jump for it. "Someone ring the bell! Maybe we can't control it!"
"I'll do that!" yelled Simpson, and a moment later the deep, solemn tones of the great bell boomed out on the midnight air, while the hungry tongues of fire leaped higher and higher.