who was beginning to "scent a rodent," as Holly Cross said.
"He gave me his card," went on the motorman, who had halted his car in the midst of a lonely stretch of woods.
"Let's see!" cried Sid.
The trolley man fumbled in his pocket for it. Tom looked back, but could not see the other special car. That had probably been some distance behind the first one and had doubtless gone the right road, the motorman not suspecting that his predecessor was not ahead of him.
Sid took the bit of pasteboard which the man held out to him. He looked at it and then uttered an exclamation.
"It's a trick!" he cried, "a soph trick! Listen to this, fellows. This is Fenmore's card, and he's written on it this message: 'This is only part of what we sophs owe you freshies for the pavilion game. There is more coming. Hope you have a nice picnic in the woods.' That fellow on the platform was Fenmore," went on Sid. "No wonder he kept his hat down."
"And here we are—part of the team—out here in the wilderness, five miles from the game, which starts in half an hour!" cried Langridge in disgust. "Say, those sophs got back at us all right. We're, in a nice pickle!"
