When this unpleasant truth had finally soaked into their minds, the
Lakerimmers grew very solemn; and one evening, when the whole eleven
happened to be in room No. 2, and when the hosts, Tug and Punk, were
particularly sore from the outrageous language used against them
in the practice of the afternoon, Punk, who was rather easily
discouraged, spoke up:

"I guess the only thing for us to do, fellows, is to pack up our duds
and go back home. There's no chance for us here."

Tug, who was feeling rather muggy, only growled:

"Not on your life! I had rather be a yellow dog than a quitter."

Then he relapsed into a silence that reminded History of Achilles in
his tent, though he was ungently told to keep still when he tried to
suggest the similarity. Reddy was fairly sizzling with rage at the
Clayton faction, and sang out:

"I move that we go round and throw a few rocks through Clayton's
windows, and then if he says anything, punch his head for him."

This idea seemed to please the majority of the men, and they were
instantly on their feet and rushing out of the door to execute their
vengeance on the tyrant, when Tug thundered out for them to come back.

"I've got a better idea," he said, "and one that will do us more
credit. I'll tell you what I am going to do: I am going to take this
matter into my own hands, and drill that scrub team myself, and see