Twice he got on his feet, merely to be tripped and thrown again.

Not until he was almost beaten and choked into insensibility were his assailants able to rip open his vest.
Ordinarily, Badger wore a soft silk shirt which had no tab, but on this night he had on a white shirt, whose tab was amputated by a dexterous thrust as soon as the vest was pulled open.

Then he was permitted to rise to his feet, reeling, sick, blind with rage and humiliation and a sense of baffled hate.
But his chief thought still was of Donald Pike.
"Which way did he go ?" he panted, as soon as he could get his breath.
"Well, your High-Muchness, the cats scattered and the man made himself scarce!" was the scoffing answer, given by the student who had felt the terrible force of Badger's fist.

"Perhaps there is another man up in the elm who can tell you!" Badger did not wait for further nagging, and, as no hands were now extended to oppose him, he made as hasty an exit as he could from the midst of the shouting, laughing, howling throng.
"Heavens!" he thought.

"I hope that neither Inza, nor Elsie, nor any of my friends, saw that from the dormitory windows!" Even in the midst of his rage against Pike, Badger was cut to the quick by this thought, for he was filled with a foolish pride.
"I'll thump Pike a few extra for that!" he snarled, as he got out of the crowd.