TOM HOLDS HIS OWN
It seemed for a moment as if the first-year boys would be quickly shoved
aside and their places taken by the sophomores, for so heavy was the
impact that the outer and second lines of defense were broken through
and the attackers were in the midst of the defenders.
"Throw 'em back! throw 'em back!" yelled Phil Clinton. "Tackle low!"
"Think you're playing football?" panted Tom, for some of his mates had
been pushed against him and he almost lost his grip on Phil's arm.
"It's like a scrimmage," replied Phil. "That's the stuff, boys!" he
added as the lines of defense formed again.
The freshmen by a fierce effort succeeded in blocking the advance of
their enemies, and those who had penetrated part way into the circles
were hurled back. But the battle had only just begun.
Once more came the rush of sophomores, the members of the class calling
to each other encouragingly. There were more of them than there were of
freshmen, but the latter had the advantage of a firm base of support,
for the lads nearest the pole clung to that and those adjoining them
locked their arms or legs about those of their comrades, thus forming a
compact mass.
"Pick 'em off one by one!" yelled Gladdus, one of the leading sophomores.
"Bore a way in there, Fenmore, and some of you fellows. We ought to get
them away."
"Hold fast! Hold fast, everybody!" cried Tom, for the joy of battle was
upon him and his heart exulted in the struggle that was going on about
him, in the pressure of bodies against his, the labored breathing, the
panting, the fierce grips that were broken only to be made anew.
The sophomores now began other tactics. Several of them would grab a
freshman in the outer circle. They would pluck him from the restraining
grasp of his companions, and then, when a hole was thus made, other
sophomores would bore their way in to repeat the process. So quickly was
this done and so strong was the peculiar attack that, almost before the
freshmen knew it, Gladdus and Fenmore, two of the most aggressive
attackers, had reached the circle that was about the pole. The two
boldly grabbed at Tom, at the same time calling out:
"Sophs this way! Sophs this way! Here's meat for us!"
Tom suddenly felt himself being pulled away from the pole. The grips of
Phil Clinton on one side and Sid Henderson on the other were slipping
from his arms.
"Hold fast! Don't let them take you!" cried Phil.
"I won't!" gasped Tom.
He thought of a trick he had acquired in wrestling. Quickly arching his
back like a bow, he suddenly straightened it with a snap, and the holds
of Gladdus and Fenmore were broken. They were hurled back and then other
freshmen took them up bodily, thrusting them beyond the outer line of
defense.
Then the whole body of sophomores quickly threw themselves against the
freshmen, as if to force them away from the pole by weight of numbers.
They nearly succeeded, and Tom and his fellow defenders of the flag
staff thought their arms would be pulled out of the sockets. But, as if
it was a second down in a fierce football game, the freshmen held their
opponents and thrust the wave of sophomores back.
So it went on, the attack becoming fiercer until, when the timekeepers
announced that there were but two more minutes left in which to hold or
gain the pole, the second-year men seemed fairly to overwhelm the
others.
"Tear 'em up! tear 'em up!" pleaded Gladdus.
"Hold, boys, hold!" begged Langridge. And hold they did, for when time
was called the defenders were found with their arms still locked about
the flag staff.
"We win, fellows!" yelled Tom, capering about, with his hands grasping
those of Sid and Phil.
Then followed an impromptu war dance, while the vanquished sophomores
filed away in the darkness, the exultant freshmen sending cheer after
cheer out on the air.
"Here's where we wear ribbons on our hats!" cried Ford Fenton. "Now, I'd
like to see any soph make me take it off."
He pulled from his pocket a band and fixed it to a new hat he had bought
to replace the slashed one.
"You came prepared, didn't you?" asked Holly Cross. "Here, let me give
you an imitation of a soph," and he held out the decorated hat, though
the gaily decorated band could not be seen in the darkness, and
pretending to regard it with horror, minced along like some grotesque
dancer on the stage.
"Good! good!" cried his fellows.
"That's the stuff, Holly, old chap!" remarked Phil. "We'll have you in
the next play."
"Why don't you fellows run the colors up on the flag pole?" proposed a
lad who had stood watching the fun.
"That's it, Jerry Jackson!" exclaimed Sid. "Good idea."
"I'm not Jerry, I'm Joe," replied the Jersey twin.
"I'll have to take your word for it," went on Sid. "Say, you two ought
to wear labels. We're always getting you mixed up."
Amid much laughter and joking a long streamer of yellow and maroon was
fastened to the halyards and run up to the truck. Langridge had the
colors with him, anticipating a victory.
"We ought to have a parade now," suggested Fenton. "My uncle says----"
"If you say uncle again inside of a week, we'll duck you!" cried Sid as
he jostled Ford to one side. "We know him by heart by this time."
"I don't believe he ever had an uncle," declared Kerr. "But come on,
fellows, let's have a parade."
The idea took at once, and the victorious freshmen formed in line and
marched about the college buildings, singing songs and yelling joyfully,
for it had been a good, fair, clean fight, and they had won.
"Let's go to Haddonfield and get out hat bands," proposed Langridge.
"We'll all be wearing them in the morning."
As discipline was rather relaxed during the first two weeks of the term
and as it was the custom for the victorious class to celebrate in some
way the idea was adopted and the joyous lads made for the town, which
at their advent at once awakened from a sort of evening nap. They went
to a dealer who made a specialty of college goods and soon all were
decked out in the gay hat bands, all save a few who, like Fenton, had
already provided themselves with the articles.
"I suppose you aren't used to such things as this down on the farm, are
you?" asked Langridge of Tom sneeringly as they were about ready to
depart for the college. "Corn husking bees and quilting parties are more
in your line."
"Wa'al, thet's what they be!" retorted Tom quickly, imitating the nasal
drawl of the typical farmer. "We folks down Northville way is some
pumpkins when it comes t' huskin' corn. Was you ever there, sonny?"
His manner was so patronizing and the effect of his words and assumed
mannerisms so odd that the lads about him burst out laughing, much to
the annoyance of Langridge.
"Going to the post-office for the mail and meeting the pretty country
girls was about the height of your enjoyment, wasn't it?" persisted the
rich youth, who seemed bound to pick a quarrel with Tom.
"Wa'al, now you're talkin'," came the quick answer in the same drawl.
There was something rather strange about Langridge. His eyes seemed
very bright and his cheeks were flushed. He evidently took Tom's
acquiescence as an indication that the country lad was willing to have
fun poked at him.
"I suppose you got lots of letters from the pretty country lasses,
enclosing locks of their red hair," sneered Langridge.
"You bet I did," exclaimed Tom, still imitating a farmer's peculiarities,
"but I want to tell ye suthin', an' when you come out Northville way,
mebby you'll remember it." Then, suddenly becoming serious and with
a change in his manner, he added: "I also used to get letters from
gentlemen, but I don't believe you could write me one!" There was a snap
in his words.
"What--what's that?" cried Langridge, taking a step toward Tom.
"You heard what I said," was the retort.
"That's the time you got yours all right, Langridge," exclaimed Phil
Clinton. "You can't tell by the looks of a haystack how far a cow can
jump, you know."
Langridge fairly glared at Tom. He seemed to want to make some reply,
but the words stuck in his throat.
"I'll--I'll get----" he stammered, and then, turning on his heel, he
linked his arm in that of Kerr and the two started off down the street.
"You held you own that time, Tom," said Sid as a little later they
followed.
"Yes, I don't mind a joke, but he went a little too far. My people live
in the country, and I'm proud of it, and proud of all my friends in
Northville. But come on, let's get back to our room. I've got some
studying to do."