# The Rival Pitchers/Chapter 21
#### CHAPTER XXI
##### ON THE GRILL

"Well, what's up?" asked Sid as Tom came in. "You're going the pace, aren't you, old man?" and he looked anxiously at his chum, whose face was flushed from the experience through which he had just gone.
"I got in late," admitted Tom.
"Get caught?" asked Sid, as if that was all that mattered.
"Yep, but that's not the worst of it."
"What? You don't mean to say you've been caught? Well, of all things. You, one of the 'grinds,' falling a victim."
"It wasn't altogether my fault."
"How's that?"
Tom considered for a moment. Would it be violating the ethical honor of a college boy if he told his chum? Would it be contrary to the spirit of Randall? Tom thought not, merely to let Sid know what had happened. For it would go no further, and, as a matter of fact, several students ​had seen Tom and Langridge leave town together. Besides, Tom wanted advice. So he told his chum everything from the time of meeting with the sporty students until the sensational retreat of Langridge to his room.
"Now, what would you do?" asked Tom. "Keep still and take what's coming or tell the proctor and use that as an excuse for coming in late? It really wasn't my fault."
Sid scratched his head. It was a new problem for him. He saw the point Tom made, that by informing on a fellow student, Tom would be held blameless, as indeed he had a right to be. Why should Tom suffer for another's fault? That came plainly to Sid. Yet he only hesitated a moment before answering.
"Of course you can't squeal," he said simply.
"That's what I thought," agreed Tom, as if that was all there was to it. "I'll have to take what's coming, I s'pose."
"Maybe proc. won't be hard on you. You've got a good record."
"Fairly. Anyhow, I hope he doesn't cut me out from baseball. Well, I'm going to bed. I wonder if they'll find out about Langridge? If the watchman thought to make a tour of the rooms, he'd discover that he just got in."
"He'll not do that. Too many of 'em. Besides, ​trust Langridge for knowing how to take care of himself. He's getting reckless, though."
"Of course you won't say anything to any of the fellows about him playing cards and smoking," went on Tom, but he did not mention the drinking episode, though probably Sid guessed.
"Of course not," came the prompt answer, "but it's not fair to the rest of the team. However, I'm not going to make a holler. Hope you come out of it all right. By-by."
"Um," grunted Tom, for he was rubbing some of the liniment on his arm and the pungent fumes made him keep his eyes and mouth shut.
Sid tumbled into bed, leaving Tom to put out the light, and there was no further talk. Tom undressed slowly. He was in no mood for sleep, for he was much upset over the incident of the night, and he was not a little anxious about the next day and his prospective visit to the proctor. For the first time that he noticed it, the ticking of the alarm clock annoyed him, the fussy, quick strokes making him say over and over again the words of a silly little rhyme as one sometimes, riding in a railroad train, fits to the click of the wheels over the rail joints some bit of doggerel that will not be ousted.
"I must be getting nervous," thought Tom. "Wonder if I'm over-training?"
This idea gave him such an alarm that it served to change the current of his thoughts, and before ​he knew it he had fallen asleep over a half-formed resolution to undertake a different sort of gymnasium exercise for a few days.
Tom's first visit the next morning after chapel was, as the rules required in such cases, to Proctor Zane.
"Well?" inquired that functionary in no pleasant voice as Tom stood before him, for there had been some skylarking in the college the previous night and the proctor had been unable to catch the offenders. "What is it now, Parsons?"
He spoke as though Tom was an habitual offender when, as a matter of fact, though the lad had taken his part in pranks, it was only the second time he had been "on the grill," as the process was termed.
"I got in after hours last night, sir," reported Tom quietly, though he resented the man's manner.
"Ha ! So I was informed by the watchman." He looked at Tom antagonistically. "Well," he snapped, "why don't you continue? There's more, isn't there?"
"Not that I know of," replied Tom calmly. "I had permission to go to town, but I got in late, that's all."
"Oh, is it? What about the student who was with you? Wasn't there some one with you?"
"Yes, sir."
​"And didn't he engage in a fight with the watchman, and, taking advantage of a mean trick, sneak to his room? Didn't he, I ask you?"
"I presume the watchman has correctly informed you of what happened."
Tom's voice was coldly indifferent now, and the proctor recognized that fact.
"He did," he snapped. "And you know of it, too. I expected you to tell me that."
"Since when has it been a college rule," asked Tom, "to confess to the doings of another student? I thought that all that was required of me was to report my own infraction of the rules."
Tom knew that he was right and that the proctor had no authority to ask him concerning the doings of Langridge, and the proctor knew that he himself was in the wrong, which knowledge, shared as it was by a student, did not add to his good temper.
"Then you refuse to say who was with you?" he snapped, his eyes fixed on Tom's face.
"I certainly refuse to inform on a fellow student, Mr. Zane," was Tom's answer, "and I don't think you have any right to ask me to do so."
If he had stopped with his first half of the reply all might have been well, for certainly the proctor did not expect Tom or any other student to be a tale-bearer, though he always asked them to speak in order to make more easy his own task. But to ​be practically defied, and by a freshman, was too much for the official, who had a certain dignity of which he was proud.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, "you are impertinent, Parsons."
"I didn't so intend, sir."
"Ha! I don't have to be informed of my rights by you. I know them. You will write me out two hundred lines of Virgil by to-morrow afternoon and you will stand suspended for two weeks, with absolutely no privileges regarding athletics or going away from college!"
It was a hard sentence under any circumstances. It was an unjust one in Tom's case, and he knew it. Yet what could he do?
"Very well, sir," he replied, trying to overcome a certain trembling feeling in his throat, and he turned to go.
"If," went on the proctor in a slightly more conciliatory voice, "you think better of your resolution and let me know the name of the student who so outrageously assaulted the watchman, I may find it possible to mitigate your punishment. Mind, I am not asking you to inform me in an ordinary case of breaking the rules, but for an extraordinary infraction. The watchman has a badly injured leg. So, if you wish to inform me later, I will be glad to hear from you."
​"I shall not change my mind," said Tom simply.
"Nor I mine," added the proctor, jerking out the words quickly.
Tom turned on his heel and left the room.