"certain things that, in college, one might better ignore. If, perchance, however, one is so constituted morally that one can't; if the laws of the Medes and the Persians are so immutable that one can't rest—why, my young philosopher, take the easiest course so long as you are true to your own motto, Dulce et decorum est pro alma mater mori. There, I don't know whether I've got the Latin right, but it says what I mean—tell the other fellow first—Tom," and with that he went over, picked up his trigonometry and fell to studying.
It was not an easy fight that Tom had with himself that night. He went all over the ground: the arrogance of Langridge, the scene in the dressing-room, the pungent odor of liquor and then his knowledge of it. Was it fair to the team to let the members be in ignorance of the fact that their pitcher took stimulants secretly—that he had done it before? For Tom was sure it was not the first time. Would it not mean, in the end, that Randall would lose some deciding game and the championship? Tom thought so and determined that it was his duty to do something. The question was, what? In a measure Sid had solved this for him, and before he fell asleep that night Tom determined to expostulate with Langridge the first chance he got.
It came sooner than he expected. There was a game with Boxer Hall on the grounds of the latter
