under a blanket of snow, and both went down in a struggling heap.
"Make it a touchdown!" yelled George Bland.
"Yes, shove him over the line, Peaches!" cried Tom.
"Hold him! Hold him!" implored Joe, and the little group of lads, which was increased by the addition of several other pupils, circled about the struggling ones, laughing at their plight.
"D-d-down!" finally panted Peaches, when Teeter held his face in the soft snow. "Let me up, will you?"
"Promise not to try to throw a high one?" asked Teeter, still maintaining his position astride of Peaches.
"Yes—I—I guess so."
"That doesn't go with me; you've got to be sure."
"All right, let a fellow up, will you? There's a lot of snow down my neck."
"That's what happened to me the last time you fired a high snowball. Peaches. That's why I didn't want you to try another while I'm around. You wait until I'm off the campus if you've got to indulge in high jinks. Come on now, fellows, since Peaches has promised to behave himself, let the merry dance go on. Have you tried a shot,
