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And this stirred Ramsey to declare with justice that "dirty work" had likewise been done upon himself by the official person, whoever he or she was, who had given him the German side of the evening's debate. After this moment of fervour, the conversation languished, and Brother Colburn rose to go. "Well, I'm glad you gave that Linski a fine little punch, Brother Milholland," he said, at the door.
Fred Mitchell, half-sorrowing, yet struggling to conceal tears of choked mirth over his roommate's late exhibition, recognized this violent interrupter as one Linski, a fellow freshman who sat next to him in one of his classes. "What's that cuss up to?" Fred wondered, and so did others. Linski showed them.
What was that squealing?" "Oh, nothing. We just talked to that Linski. Nobody else touched him, but Ramsey Milholland gave him a peach of a punch on the snoot." "Whoopee!" Ramsey was laconic in response to inquiries upon this subject.
"Why, you had a fight about me!" "No, I didn't." "With Wesley Bender!" Ramsey chuckled. "That wasn't a fight!" "It wasn't?" "Nothing like one. We were just guyin' him about about gettin' slicked up, kind of, because he at in front of you; and he hit me with his book strap and I chased him off. Gracious, no; that wasn't a fight!" "But you fought Linski only last fall." Ramsey chuckled again.
Tommie Hopper says he saw him last summer in Chicago soapboxin', yellin' his head off cussin' every government under the sun, but mostly ours and the Allies', you bet, and going to run the earth by revolution and representatives of unskilled labour immigrants, nobody that can read or write allowed to vote, except Linski.
"That wasn't even as much like a fight as the one with Wesley. I just told this Linski I was goin' to give him a punch in the sn I just told him to look out because I was goin' to hit him, and then I did it, and waited to see if he wanted to do anything about it, and he didn't. That's all there was to it, and it wasn't any more like fighting than than feeding chickens is." She laughed dolefully.
"He'll hit you on the head with it," said the light-hearted Fred, falling back upon this old joke. "Then you can catch it as it bounces off and throw it back at him." However, Linski proved to be merely an episode, not only so far as Ramsey was concerned but in the Lumen and in the university as well.
Wherever there's an American he's with us and you bet your bottom dollar there are just a few more Americans in this country of ours than there are big-mouthed lobsters like that fellow Linski! I tell you, if Congress only gives the word, there could be an army of five million men in this country to-morrow, and those dirty baby-killin' dachshunds would hear a word or two from your Uncle Samuel!
Linski made a fiery address, the townsmen loudly appluading his advocacy of an embargo on munitions and the distribution of everybody's "property," but the Chinaman, accustomed to see students so madly in earnest only when they were burlesquing, took the whole affair to be intended humour, and tittered politely without cessation except at such times as he thought it proper to appear quite wrung with laughter.
"Well, there's one good old boy was with our class for a while, back in freshman year; I bet we won't see him in any good old army! Old rough-neck Linski that you put the knob on his nose for.
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