BATTLE!
It was the custom for the juniors to hold a meeting shortly after the
beginning of the school year and elect class officials, and it was
also the custom of the lower middle and upper middle fellows to take
quite a flattering interest in the affair. Perhaps it would be more
correct to say that the lower middlers were interested in the meeting
and the upper middlers were interested in the lower middlers. Just why
the second-year boys held it incumbent to do all in their power to
prevent the juniors from getting together successfully it is difficult
to say; but they did. The upper middlers’ part in the proceedings was
theoretically to see that the first-year fellows had fair play, but
what they actually did was to have a good-natured mix-up with the lower
middlers. Consequently the evening of junior meeting was looked forward
to with pleasurable anticipation by the whole school, unless we omit a
portion of the junior class whose disposition was entirely peaceable.
The juniors did their best to hold the meeting in secret, but someone
outside the class invariably got wind of it in time to give the alarm.
Faculty had on one or two occasions, when the fun had become rather
too noisy, threatened to prohibit the ceremony, but at the time of
this story it was still observed. This fall it was arranged among the
juniors that they were to meet at five o’clock on Wednesday afternoon
in assembly hall. But the watchful lower middlers prevented that by
the simple expedient of locking both doors on the inside and leaving
the keys in, departing by way of a window and by means of a rope. By
the time Mr. Crump, the head janitor, had pushed out one of the keys
and fitted a new one it was too late for the meeting and the juniors
retired in defeat. Subsequently they allowed it to leak out that the
postponed assembly would take place in the same room on Saturday
evening, and, for some reason, their story was believed.
But on Thursday evening at about eight o’clock cries of “Lower middle,
all out!” echoed through the dormitories and books were abandoned
and green eye-shades tossed aside. In a few minutes it became known
that the juniors had stolen a march and were safely barricaded in the
gymnasium! Lower middle hastened to the scene in force, and upper
middle followed swiftly. The seniors, forgetting dignity, likewise
repaired to the gathering to play the part of spectators. As Roy
Dresser remarked to Ted Trafford as they secured positions of vantage
against the end wall of Manning, it looked very much as though, in the
words of the country newspapers, “a good time was to be had by all.”
Lower middle tried doors and windows and found them impregnable. They
were denied even a glimpse of the proceedings inside, for the juniors
had carefully draped blankets against the windows. Lower middle held
a conference of war and upper middle jeered. Upper middle not only
jeered but made remarks calculated to displease the enemy. Lower middle
replied in kind and the seniors applauded both sides. And there the
matter would have rested until the juniors had finished their meeting
and sallied forth had not an ambitious lower middler taken it into his
head to try to reach the second story by means of a copper rain-spout.
Why that should have annoyed upper middle I don’t know, but upper
middle resented the trespass and surged forward. The attack was so
unexpected that lower middle gave way and the ambitious climber was
pulled, struggling, from his place halfway up the metal pipe. He reached
the ranks of his friends no worse for the adventure, but lower middle
felt that her rights had been interfered with and the fun commenced.
Up and down in front of the gymnasium the battle waged, the two classes
fairly even in numbers. For the first few minutes it was a mere matter
of pushing and shoving, one throng against the other, lower middle
giving way only to close ranks again and force upper middle back. The
seniors, laughing and impartially encouraging the belligerents, watched
appreciatively. And in the meanwhile, quite forgotten, the juniors
proceeded undisturbed with their election.
Afterwards lower middle declared that upper middle had started the
real trouble, and upper middle stoutly laid the blame on her opponent.
At all events, what was to be expected happened and someone, losing
his temper for the instant, struck a blow. His adversary accepted
the challenge. Others at once adopted the new tactics and cries of
“Fight! Fight!” arose from both factions, and those behind surged
eagerly forward. At first it was only those in the front ranks who
became engaged, but the others soon got into action and presently some
ninety-odd youths were hard at it. More than one old score was settled,
doubtless, in the ensuing five minutes. The seniors, scattering away
from the field of battle, viewed proceedings dubiously. This was
more than precedent called for, and if a master happened to put in an
appearance there would be trouble for all concerned.
It was Ted Trafford and Joe Leslie, the latter senior class president,
who finally, calling for volunteers, attempted to put an end to
hostilities. It was no easy task, however, for while many of the
belligerents were fighting for the sheer love of it, keeping their
tempers in check, there were others who were mad clear through and who
had to be literally dragged apart. Pop Driver performed lustily for the
peace party, his simple way of tripping up one adversary and holding
the other proving peculiarly efficacious. But at that it is doubtful if
the seniors could have ended the battle for a long time if Guy Murtha,
who had intercepted a blow meant for someone else and was ruefully
nursing a bruised cheek, had not hit on the expedient of raising the
warning cry of “_Faculty, fellows, faculty!_” Fortunately, there was no
truth in the announcement, but it did the business. Panting for breath,
upper and lower middlers drew apart, searching the half-darkness with
anxious gaze, ready to disappear as soon as they discovered from which
direction danger threatened. Leslie took advantage of the lull to read
the riot act and his words of counsel had effect. Upper middle bitterly
laid the onus on lower middle and lower middle indignantly returned
the charge.
“Never mind who started it,” said Leslie impatiently. “You fellows beat
it to your rooms before you get caught. You’re a lot of silly idiots to
do a thing like this, anyway, and it would serve you all right if you
got what you deserve. Hanrihan, you ought to know better than to let
this happen!”
“Someone jumped on me,” replied Tom Hanrihan cheerfully. “I didn’t
start it, Joe.”
“Well, get away from here before anything happens. Come on, seniors.”
Nursing bruised faces and knuckles, holding handkerchiefs to bleeding
noses, the participants in the recent fracas began to disperse, slowly,
however, since neither side wished to be the first to withdraw. Still,
the incident would have been closed there and then had not the juniors
seen fit to throw open the gymnasium door at that moment and burst
triumphantly forth. That was too much for the sore and smarting lower
middlers to endure with equanimity. There was a murmur of displeasure
and then a howl of rage and the lower middlers surged up the steps and
literally crushed the juniors back through the portals.
“You like it so well in there you can stay there!” they shouted.
“It’s all night for you fellows! You don’t get out! Keep ’em in, lower
middle!”
But that was not so easy, since there were plenty of windows, and it
didn’t take the juniors long to remember the fact. The sight of figures
skulking away in the darkness soon apprised the guardians of the portal
of what was happening and shouts of “Windows, fellows, windows!” was
heard and half their number left the portico to intercept the escaping
prisoners. That presented upper middle with an excellent opportunity to
take a hand again and she seized it eagerly. In a twinkling the doorway
was cleared of lower middlers and the juniors came forth. Lower middle,
resenting upper middle’s interference, again rallied and tried to force
the portico, only to be thrice hurled back before superior numbers.
As occasion occurred, the juniors fled to the safety of Manning, or
tried to, for not a few were caught and held prisoners by the enemy.
Jeers and taunts were exchanged, while the seniors once more attempted
to persuade the warring factions to cease hostilities. Finally upper
middlers and such juniors as remained with them sallied down the steps
in force and the battle broke forth again. It was a running fight
now, for the juniors fled helter skelter for the nearby dormitory,
protected by upper middlers, while the lower middlers tried to capture
them. Confusion reigned supreme.
Hugh, who had taken part in the proceedings with zest and had sustained
a lump as large as a bantam’s egg over one eye and a set of sore
knuckles, became separated from his friends somewhere between Manning
and School Hall. A minute before he had been battling with Nick at his
side and his back against the rubbish barrel at the corner, but now
Nick had disappeared and although the combat waged behind and before
him, he was alone and unchallenged. That, thought Hugh, would never
do. For the glory of upper middle he must find an adversary. So he
raced down the bricks toward the steps of School Hall, where he could
discern under the lamplight a group of fellows struggling strenuously.
He slowed up as he approached in order to distinguish friend from foe,
but, to his surprise, someone pinioned his arms from behind and he was
thrust rudely into the group in front of the door.
“Here’s another, fellows!” panted his captor. “Get him!”
Before he knew it he was being forced up the steps and through the door
of School Hall, struggling but helpless, someone holding his arms at
his sides and someone’s hand gripped chokingly about his neck. Down the
corridor to the stairs, up the stairs, along another corridor and, at
last, into a classroom. Then the uncomfortable grasp on his neck was
removed, the door slammed, a key turned outside and Hugh, breathless
and dizzy but still unconquered, wheeled around with ready fists.
The room, one of the smaller ones, was unlighted save for what radiance
came through the window from the lamps along the path below, but Hugh
could see two other figures in the gloom and he was eager for battle.
“Come on,” he challenged. “I’ll take you both!”
“I――I don’t want to fight, thanks,” said a mild voice from the
darkness. “I――I――――”
“Are you a junior?” asked the other occupant of the gloom.
“No, are you?” replied Hugh.
“Yes, they collared me and Twining just as we were coming around the
corner. We climbed out of a window in the gym and were trying to get to
Manning. Do you suppose they mean to keep us here long?”
“So that’s it, eh?” mused Hugh. “I thought you were upper middle
fellows when I saw you scuffling down there. Well, they’ve got us to
rights, haven’t they?” He made his way to the window, raised the lower
sash and looked out. Everything was quiet below, a fact explainable by
the unmistakable presence on the walk further along near Manning of two
masters in conference. Hugh pulled his head in quickly for fear they
might look up and see him.
“They’ve all gone,” he announced to his fellow prisoners, “and Mr.
Smiley and one of the other masters are down there.”
“Then if we call to them they’ll let us out,” said the youth who wasn’t
Twining.
“Yes, but――――” Hugh thought a moment. Then: “All right,” he agreed.
But when he put his head through the window again the masters had
disappeared. “They’ve gone now,” he reported. “Try that door and see if
it’s really locked, one of you chaps.”
“Yes, it is,” was the answer from Twining, who had a thin, piping voice
and sounded as though he might be only about thirteen. “Don’t you think
they’ll come back pretty soon and let us out?”
“I fancy so. They’ll wait until things quiet down, I dare say. All we
can do is wait.” Hugh felt his way to a chair and seated himself and
the others followed his example. There was silence for a minute or two
during which Hugh felt admiringly of the lump over his left eye. Then
Twining spoke with something like a sniffle.
“I don’t think it’s fair for them to do this,” he complained. “We
juniors have to be in by nine o’clock and I guess it must be more than
that now, isn’t it?”
“Must be,” agreed Hugh. “Can’t you get in without being seen?”
“No,” replied the other junior disgustedly. “They lock the door about a
quarter past and you have to ring. We’ll get the dickens!”
“Well, it’s all in a lifetime,” returned Hugh philosophically. “Anyway,
you chaps held your meeting. That ought to comfort you, eh?”
“I dare say, but it isn’t very nice to have to spend the night up here.”
“That’s the idea,” exclaimed Hugh. “Stay up here and they won’t know
you weren’t in, will they?”
They seemed doubtful about that. Twining was of the opinion that Mr.
Gring, who was master on his floor, would somehow learn of his absence.
“He finds out everything, Cupid does,” he sniffled. “Besides, I can’t
sleep here in this hard seat all night.”
“Try the floor then, old chap. That’s what I shall do if they don’t
come back and let us out.”
“But they will, of course,” said the other of the two. “They wouldn’t
dare not to, would they?”
“I really can’t――――” Then Hugh amended his answer. “Search me,” he
said. They talked desultorily for a while. Hugh learned that the second
and presumably older boy was named Struthers. Struthers boasted of
the junior class’s success in pulling the meeting off and told how he
had put lower middle off the track by writing a note to one of their
members announcing the affair for Saturday night and purposely dropping
it in the corridor of School Hall. Struthers chuckled a lot about that,
but Twining appeared incapable of seeing humor in anything just now. He
was all for putting his head out the window and calling for help, but
Hugh vetoed that plan and threatened to punch the first one who tried
it.
“A silly-looking lot we’d be,” he said disgustedly, “if the masters had
to come up here and free us! We’d be laughed at all over school. If
they don’t let us out pretty soon I’ll see if I can climb around to the
next window. It’s only about four or five feet from this one, and if
there’s anything to hold on to I can do it.”
“You might fall and hurt yourself,” sniffed Twining.
“I don’t think so. It isn’t far to the ground, for that matter. If we
could find a rope or something I might be able to drop. Anyone got a
vesta?”
“A vest on?” asked Struthers. “No, but we could tie our jackets
together and――――”
“I said a vesta, a match,” laughed Hugh. “Tying our jackets together
isn’t a bad idea, though. If I can’t make it by the window――――”
He stopped and listened. Ten o’clock was sounding.
“Now we’ll all be hung together,” he said cheerfully. “If I get caught
coming in after ten I’ll get ballywhack too. I’m going to have a look
at that window.”