FRESHMAN AGAINST SOPHOMORE.
On the following morning a large piece of cardboard Swung from the door
of Merriwell and Rattleton's room in Mrs. Harrington's boarding house.
On the cardboard was this inscription:
"Good-morning!
Have you used
Soap?"
Harry was up at an early hour industriously scrubbing away. He succeeded
fairly well, but despite his utmost efforts the coloring refused to come
off entirely.
And it was absolutely necessary that he should attend chapel.
On their way to chapel Frank and Harry came face to face with Professor
Such, who peered at them sharply and said:
"Good-morning, gentlemen."
"Good-morning, professor," returned the boys.
Harry tried to keep behind Frank, so that his face would not be noticed.
The professor was nearsighted, but he immediately noted Rattleton's
queer actions, and he placed himself in front of the boys, adjusting
his spectacles.
"Hang his curiosity!" muttered Harry in disgust.
"Eh?" said the professor, scratching his chin with one finger and
peering keenly at Harry. "Did you speak, sir?"
"Yes, sir--I mean no, sir," spluttered Harry, while Frank stepped aside
and stood laughing silently to himself.
"I thought you did. Er--what's the matter with your face, young man?"
"That's the result of my last attack of chilblains," said Harry,
desperately. "They hent to my wed--I mean they went to my head."
"Eh?"
The professor seemed to doubt if he had heard correctly, while Merriwell
nearly exploded.
Rattleton looked frightened when he came to think what he had said. He
felt like taking to his heels and running for his life.
"Chilblains, sir?" came severely from Professor Such. "Sir--sir, do not
attempt to be facetious with me! You will regret it if you do!"
Cold sweat started out on Harry's forehead, and he looked appealingly
toward his companion; but Frank had turned away to conceal his
merriment.
"I--I don't think I--I understood your--your question," stammered
Harry. "I'm a little heard of haring--I mean hard of hearing."
"I asked you what was the matter with your face, sir."
"Oh, my face! Ha! ha! He! he! I thought you said something about my
pace, because I was walking so slowly. That made me fancy you were
interested to know what ails my feet. Excuse me! I beg your pardon,
professor!"
"Hum!" coughed the professor, again scratching his chin with the tip of
his finger, while he peered through his spectacles, plainly still
somewhat suspicious. "It is rather remarkable that you should get things
mixed in such a manner."
"I am not feeling well, professor, not at all."
And it was apparent to Frank that Harry told the truth.
"You are not looking well," came somewhat sarcastically from Professor
Such's lips. "Your countenance has a strangely mottled hue."
"It comes from Injun jestion," explained Merriwell, coming to his
roommate's relief.
"Eh? From what, sir."
"From indigestion," said Frank, very soberly. "He is much troubled that
way."
"Much troubled! much troubled!" exclaimed the professor, whose ear had
been offended and who immediately turned his attention on Frank. "I
advise you to be somewhat more choice and careful of your language,
young man. There is a right and a wrong use of words."
Just then the chapel bell clanged, and the professor exclaimed:
"Bless me! we'll be late if we're not careful!"
Away he hurried.
Frank and Harry followed him, and as they went along Harry expressed his
feelings forcibly and violently.
"How dare you howl before me?" laughed Frank.
"Excuse me," said Rattleton. "I didn't know you wanted to howl first."
At chapel Harry felt that the eyes of everybody were upon him. He kept
one hand up to his face as much as possible, but he saw the sophomores
smiling covertly and winking among themselves. He longed to get even;
that was his one burning ambition and desire.
When the service was over the freshmen stood and bowed to the faculty as
they passed out. They were supposed to keep bowing to the seniors,
juniors and sophomores, but that custom had long been a dead letter at
Yale. The freshmen had become too independent for such a thing.
However, they stood and saw the upper classmen go past, and it seemed
to poor Harry that every fellow stared at him and grinned. The sophs
added to his misery and anger by winking at him, and Tad Horner ventured
to go through a swift pantomime of taking a scalp.
"Oh, I am liable to have yours yet," thought Harry.
On their way back to their rooms Harry and Frank were greeted by all
sorts of calls and persiflage from the sophomores, who had gathered in
knots to watch them pass.
This sort of chaffing gave Rattleton "that tired feeling," as he
expressed it, and by the time they reached their room he was in a
desperate mood.
"I'll get even!" he vowed, fiercely. "I'll do it."
"Go ahead--you can do it," laughed Frank. "You can do anybody."
Then Harry flung a book at him, which Frank skillfully caught and
returned with the utmost politeness.
At breakfast Rattleton was chafed by the freshmen, and he boiled more
than ever.
"Somebody has my coat, vest, hat, shirt and undershirt," he said as he
thought the affair over. "I had to go home in a linen duster which I got
down to Billy's last night. I don't care so much for the clothes I lost,
but I'd like to know who has 'em. I'd sue him!"
But after breakfast an expressman appeared with a bundle for Rattleton,
and in the bundle were the missing articles.
The sophomores were jubilant, and they taunted the freshmen. They said
the fate that had befallen Rattleton was simply a warning. It was
nothing beside what might happen.
For the time the freshmen were forced to remain silent, but they felt
that the sophomores had not evened up matters by any means. And the
affair would not be dropped.
During the afternoon of that day it rained for at least two hours, and
it did not clear up and let the sun out, so there was plenty of dirt and
mud at nightfall.
Then it was that Rattleton some way found out that a number of
sophomores who dined at a club on York Street were going to attend a
party that evening. It was to be a swell affair on Temple Street, and
the sophs were certain to wear their dress suits.
"They'll din for dresser--I mean dress for dinner," spluttered Harry as
he was telling Frank. "It's certain they'll go directly from dinner to
the party."
"Well, what has worked its way into your head?"
"A scheme."
"Give it to us."
"We'll be ready for 'em when they come from dinner, and we'll give 'em a
rush. They're not likely to be in any condition to attend a party after
we are through with them. What do you say, old man? What do you think
of it?"
"We are likely to get enough of rushing in the annual rush, but I'm with
you if you want to carry this job through."
"All right, then, we'll do it. We'll give those sophs a warm time. I
have been grouchy all day, but I begin to feel better now."
So Frank and Harry communicated the plan to their friends, and a party
gathered in their room immediately after supper.
Dismal Jones was out as a scout, and he had agreed to let them know when
the sophomores left their club. They were inclined to take much more
time in dining than the freshmen.
Pretty soon Jones came racing up the stairs and burst into the room.
"Come on, fellows!" he cried. "The sophs are leaving their club, and
there's lots of 'em wearing dress suits. We'll have a picnic with 'em!"
Dismal seldom got excited, but now he was quite aroused.
The freshmen caught up their caps and hurried downstairs. They were soon
on the street, and they hastened to meet their natural enemies.
The sophomores had formed by twos, with Browning and Emery in advance.
It was true that many of them were in dress suits, and they were not a
little disturbed when they saw the solid body of freshmen coming swiftly
to meet them.
To pass on the right the sophomores were entitled to the inside of the
sidewalk, and although they would have given much to avoid the
encounter, they formed solidly and prepared to defend their rights.
The freshmen also formed in a compact mass, and came on with a rush,
keeping hard up against the wall.
"Turn to the right! Turn to the right!"
The sophomores uttered the cry as they hugged the wall on the inside.
"Sweep 'em off! Sweep 'em off!"
That was the cry that came from the determined freshmen.
"Hold on! hold on!" ordered Browning. "There is a law for this!"
"Then you will have to produce officers to enforce it," laughed Frank
Merriwell.
"But there is a regular time for rushing."
"This is not a regular rush, so we don't mind."
"But you fellows have no right to do it!"
"Is that so?" was the derisive retort. "Hear the sophs squeal fellows!
Oh, my! but this is funny!"
"Stop a minute and we will argue this matter, freshies," invited
Browning, who was thoroughly disgusted over the prospect.
Then the whole crowd of freshmen roared with laughter.
"Hear the baby cry!" they shouted. "He is begging! Ha! ha! ha!"
Browning's face was crimson with anger and confusion.
"You are an insolent lot of young ruffians!" he snapped, "and Merriwell
is the biggest ruffian of you all!"
"Back it up! back it up!"
"I can!"
"Why don't you?"
"I will when the right time comes."
"What's the matter with this for the right time?"
"No! no! Turn to the right and let us pass now. We will see you again."
"We see you now, and we are going to raise you the limit."
The sophomores held a hurried consultation, and then Browning said:
"If you fellows will wait till we go change our clothes we'll come out
and give you as warm a time as you want."
"All right, we will wait."
"Then let us pass."
"We'll do that, but you will have to pass on the outside."
That was something the sophomores could not do without yielding to the
freshmen, and they felt that they had rather die than yield unless
compelled to do so.
The sophomores stormed and scolded, and the freshmen, who outnumbered
them, laughed and flung back taunts.
Then the sophomores determined on a quick, sudden rush, but it happened
that the freshmen had decided on a rush at the same moment, and the two
bodies of lads plunged forward as if at one signal.
"'Umpty-eight! 'Umpty-eight!" yelled the freshmen.
"'Umpty-seven! 'Umpty-seven!" shouted the sophomores.
Crash! They met!
Then there occurred one of the liveliest struggles of the season up to
that date. Each side did its best to force the other off the sidewalk,
and for some moments they swayed and surged in one spot.
At last the superior weight of the freshmen began to tell, and the
sophomores were slowly swept backward, contending every inch.
Feeling that they must be crowded to the outside, Browning gave the
signal for them to break and make it a hand-to-hand affair. Then he
grappled with Merriwell.
Frank was ready, and he willingly left the line as the freshmen forged
onward. He was anxious for an opportunity of seeing just what sort of
stuff the king of the sophomores was made of, and this was his chance.
Finding that they could not hold the freshmen back, the sophs had each
singled out a man, and the contest became hand to hand.
In a few moments several parties were down, and some of them rolled from
the sidewalk into the street.
Now that they had been forced to do battle, the sophs were desperate,
and they sailed in like a lot of tigers.
Rattleton found himself pitted against Andy Emery, and Emery had the
reputation of being as full of grit as a bulldog. He was on the 'Varsity
crew, and he had a back and shoulders which were the admiration of those
who had seen him strip to the buff.
Emery had a quick temper and a strong arm. He grappled with Harry,
lifted him off his feet and tried to throw him, but the freshman came
down on his feet like a cat.
A second later Emery was astonished to feel his own feet flung into the
air, and he could not help falling, but he clung to his antagonist and
they went down together.
Over and over they rolled, each striving to get on top. They were soon
off the sidewalk and into the street.
Emery was furious, for he felt that his dress suit was the same as
ruined, and he uttered some very savage language.
"That's right," chuckled Harry. "Cuss a little--it may help you."
It seemed to, for Emery finally succeeded in getting astride Rattleton
and holding him down for a few moments. He was soon pulled off by
another freshman, and the merry war went on.
Little Tad Horner was right in the hottest scrimmage, and he proved
formidable for the freshmen, despite his size. He had a way of darting
under them and tripping them up, then getting away before he could be
grappled.
Dismal Jones was quoting Scripture and doing his best to make himself
felt by the sophomores. Jones was a character. His parents were
"shouting Methodists," and they intended him for the ministry. He had a
long, sad face, but he was full of deviltry, and it was very seldom that
the freshmen entered into any affair against the sophomores that he was
not on hand and interested.
"Lay on and spare not!" he cried, after the style of a camp-meeting
revivalist. "If the wicked entice thee, consent thou not. Get behind me,
Satan! Brothers, oh, my dear brothers! it makes my heart sad and weary
to see so much wicked strife and contention."
Punch Swallows, the red-headed soph, found himself pitted against Lucy
Little. Despite his name, Little was not a "sissy," and he was no mean
antagonist, as Punch found out. It was nip and tuck between them, and
neither seemed to have the best of it.
Some of the sophs were able to down their men, but they were so
outnumbered by the freshmen that they could not hold an advantage very
long.
The struggle between Browning and Merriwell waxed furious. The big
sophomore exerted himself to his utmost, and he found that it was
necessary that he should do so if he had any thought of holding his own
with the freshman leader.
Frank knew all the time that he was pitted against a hard man, and so
his muscles were strained and his nerves were taut.
"Now, fresh, we'll see what we can do for you," Browning said, as he
made a mighty effort to land Frank on his back.
"You are very kind," laughed Merriwell. "I will not forget your
kindness."
"You are not the only one," panted Browning. "There are others."
"Are you going to the party this evening?" chuckled Frank.
"Not till I have done you up, my friend with the swelled head."
"Then you expect to be rather late?"
"We'll see!"
Frank resorted to all the tricks he knew, but Browning was familiar with
every one of them. They gave up trying to down each other by main
strength, and science cut quite a figure in their battle.
At length Browning got Frank foul, and to his dismay the leader of the
freshmen felt himself falling. Browning fell with him, a cry of triumph
coming to his lips.
That cry turned to an exclamation of dismay, for Merriwell seemed to
twist about in the air, and they fell side by side on the ground. In a
twinkling they were at it again, and over and over they went, till they
finally stopped and got upon their feet together.
"Very good thus far," laughed Merriwell. "But I see your wind will not
hold out. I am bound to do you in the end."
That was the very thing Browning feared.
"Well, I don't know about that," he said as he broke Frank's grip. "This
may settle the whole business."
He struck hard and straight at Merriwell's face!