The Adventures of a Freshman Part 11

Young was a Freshman. He laughed scornfully. "What have you got to do with it, you big, overgrown baby?"

"I'll show you what I've got to do with, you big bully." Young's voice trembled. "Let go that boy," and much to everyone's astonishment the Freshman took hold of the Soph.o.m.ore very much as Ballard had hold of Lee.

At this, Ballard, in sheer astonishment that any Freshman should have the audacity to touch him, Ballard, the centre rush of the Soph.o.m.ore team, dropped Lee, wrenched away from Young and whirled around toward him with fist drawn up in fighting position, dancing up and down, and saying, "You impudent pup of a Freshman, you impudent pup!"

["Yea-a! big sc.r.a.p!" shouted those upstairs--"Aw! Freshman's afraid."]

Now, Young considered himself the better man, but all he wanted was to make Ballard let go of Lee, and he had succeeded.

["Aw! Freshman's bluffed out--too bad!"]

Ballard had turned once more toward Lee. "Get to work," he bawled.

Lee stood still.

Ballard drew back as if to demolish the little fellow. "Now," he began--but just then in ran Young. His unclenched hands were stuck out awkwardly in front of him; it made the upper-cla.s.smen in the windows shout with laughter; some of the Soph.o.m.ores in the ring giggled excitedly. Young did not hear it. He guarded off one blow, was struck on the chest by the second, dodged the third--and as he ducked, he plunged in and grappled.

They clinched and began to wrench and twist and scuffle about the ring; the rest of the Soph.o.m.ores falling back to keep out of the way whenever the two big fellows came over too near the edge.

Now, Young was no boxer, but he had, like many another country boy, wrestled ever since he first put on trousers, and he had not forgotten all his tricks. He made a feint as if to try a hip throw, then slipped his arms down on Ballard, twisted his feet around, threw his chin and his weight forward, and down they both came, Young on top, while the voices up in University Hall yelled approvingly: "The Freshman is doing him! the Freshman is doing him!" This made Ballard beside himself with rage.

But Young having proved himself the better man, released Ballard quickly, jumped up, stepped across to Lee, and in a sober manner was saying, "Now, Lee, I think----" when a staggering blow from Ballard's fist on the half-turned face nearly upset Young, who was entirely unprepared for this unexpected attack; he might have fallen but for Lee.

Up to this point Young, though very much in earnest, had been quite cool and deliberate. But now, with the cowardly blow stinging on his face, he became infuriated. He turned and charged at Ballard like one of the bulls on his father's farm, with his head down and regardless of consequences. His eyes were wide open and teeth set. His fury gave him double strength.

Paying no more attention to Ballard's blows than to so many raindrops, he dived down and grasped him around the middle, lifted him up, got him on the right hip, and whirled him over and down upon the ground between the sidewalk and the curbstone, a full, clean throw.

The men up in the windows were now really excited, "Good enough, Freshman! good enough! Served him right! Do it again!"

That was just what Young, with teeth set and nostrils distended, was proceeding to do, though not because they told him to, for he was now oblivious to everything but showing Ballard that there was a limit to hazing and to Freshman meekness!

Up went Ballard's legs in the air once more with the enraged Freshman's long, strong arms locked tightly about him. And again he came down hard upon the ground. And he had barely got to his feet when in rushed the Freshman again with his head down, and for the third time Ballard was thrown flat and fair. This time it was in the gutter, and it was lucky for Ballard that it was full of leaves, for Young fell heavily on top of him.

Up to this point Ballard's cla.s.smates had been busy keeping out of the way of his whirling heels. Now they began to realize that they were becoming disgraced; something must be done. Channing was calling, excitedly, "Get in there, somebody; don't let a Freshman do that, fellows," while he himself kept well out of the way.

Perhaps they did not admire Ballard for what he had done, but he was their cla.s.smate. One of the bigger fellows dashed in and got Young by the legs and began to pull. Quick as a flash little Lee ran in and immediately tripped him up. No one had been watching Lee. Another Soph.

slipped in and pulled Lee off. A couple of them held him. Then the others began grabbing Young's arms and legs. He held on like a bull-dog.

One man was sitting on his head. Two were on his body. Ballard was wriggling and swearing. He got one arm over Young's neck.

"Here, here, give the Freshman a show; give him fair play!" cried some authoritative voices. It was some Juniors and Seniors hurrying out from University Hall--some half-dressed and some not dressed at all.

They ran across the street and brushed Soph.o.m.ores right and left, saying, "Get off there--get off there, I tell you!"

Some Soph.o.m.ores jumped up; others were pulled off.

"Ballard has hurt his ankle! Ballard has hurt his ankle--let him up." It was Channing's shrill voice.

"Well, if he's hurt let him up," said the Juniors. The Freshman was still on top.

"Get off, Freshman, you did him; Ballard has hurt his ankle."

Young jumped up quickly. "Is he hurt?" he asked, panting, and looking around; he was amazed to see so many people about him. He had an ugly bruise under his left eye, where Ballard had hit him; he didn't feel it now.

Ballard had hastily jumped up. He did not look at Young; he did not say a word. He was panting hard; he leaned on Channing's arm and limped quickly and quietly away. The other Soph.o.m.ores followed behind; none of them looked back. There was a dramatic silence.

"He's not much hurt," said a Junior who knew Ballard of old, and he was right, for before the Soph.o.m.ores quite reached the corner Ballard had stopped limping and was walking as well as anybody. "Say, Channing,"

another upper-cla.s.sman called after them, "how about that spanking?" and before the small Soph.o.m.ore was out of earshot he had the pleasure of hearing the upper-cla.s.sman begin a narration which was received with squeals and shouts of laughter.

Meanwhile Young, in the centre of another ring, was sitting on the curbstone panting like a good fellow. Lee was bending over him mopping his face with his own handkerchief and patting him on the back and laughing excitedly.

"Are you hurt, old man?" asked one of the Juniors.

Young shook his head.

"What's his name?" asked one of the others.

"Young's his name," answered little Lee, proudly, like the exhibitor of something rare.

"Well, he's a good one," said one of the new arrivals. Others were hurrying down the steps of University Hall and across the street every moment; they all asked questions. Several of the first arrivals were telling the new arrivals all about it, with gestures.

"Tried to make the big fellow paste procs," one man was saying, while another was crying: "But you ought to have seen that beautiful spanking last night! Oh, dear! I'll never forget Channing's look when...."

The big roll of proclamations, by the way, which had been lying on the ground, had disappeared. Some of the new arrivals were Freshmen, and Lee, who had hidden it under his coat, gave it to them to carry away.

First they tore down all the procs that were in sight. A Junior picking up a piece was reading aloud, "the meek b.u.t.t of all cla.s.ses."

"This is 'the meek b.u.t.t of all cla.s.ses,'" said Lee, laughing.

Young got up from the curbstone.

"Come on, Lucky," he said, "we'll have to hurry to meet those other fellows on the way from Trenton."

Lee tried to help him up; Young would not allow it. But as they started off Lee insisted on putting his arm about him.

"What! that big, awkward-looking chap?" Young heard a new arrival ask one of the others. Then just as they reached the corner Lee and Young suddenly heard:

"Ray, ray, ray! Tiger, siss, boom, ah! 'Meek b.u.t.t of all cla.s.ses!'" It was the Juniors giving a cheer for him in the early dawn.

Lee turned around and waved his hand at them. Young blushed, but did not turn his head. Lee reached up and lifted Young's hat to them, which made the others laugh. It made Young laugh a little, too. Then they turned the corner and were out of the crowd.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MEEK b.u.t.t OF ALL CLa.s.sES!

Before curfew rang in Old North at the close of that day the whole college was talking about it.]

Before curfew rang in Old North at the close of that day the whole college was talking about it: "Big green Freshman ... thought he didn't dare say his soul was his own.... That irrepressible little Channing, first ... worm turned ... yes, on the third floor of University--Bob Ellis saw the whole thing himself ... caught big Freshman this morning with Lee--yes, that nice little fellow.... Sophs undertook to make him paste procs--no, Lee first.... Little one was game.... Big Bally--yes, went at Lee.... Big Freshman turned on Bally--Bally punched him--um, right up here, under eye, a nasty one--then big, meek Freshman.... Oh, my! lovely!----"

Only in the telling it became twenty or thirty Soph.o.m.ores, and it was over a fence that Ballard was thrown.

Deacon Young was a hero now.