Ditson had fawned around Browning a great deal since entering college, with the result that the king of the sophomores came to entertain a feeling of absolute disgust for the fellow. The very sight of Ditson made the "king" feel as if he would enjoy giving him a good "polishing off."
But Bruce was no bully, although he was a leader of the sophomores. He had proved his ability to fight when it was necessary, but no one could say that he ever showed any inclination to do bodily harm to one who was weak and peaceable.
During his freshman year Browning had originated any number of wild projects for sport, and he had always succeeded in carrying them through successfully. Thus it came about that he was called the "king," and his companions continued to call him that when he became a sophomore.
But now there was a man in college who had fairly outwitted Browning on several occasions, and so it came about that the king was aroused against Frank Merriwell.
Browning keenly felt the sting of being beaten at his own game, and he was obliged to confess to himself that Merriwell had accomplished the trick.
But our hero was not inclined to let Bruce alone. He did not wait for the king to become aggressive; he set about keeping Bruce in hot water, and he succeeded very well.
The other freshmen, stimulated by the example of one who was distinctly a leader among them, carried on such an energetic campaign against the sophomores that the latter found themselves almost continually on the defensive.
Such a thing had never before been known at Yale and the sophs were highly indignant. They informed the freshmen that they were altogether too fresh. They said the freshmen were breaking a time-honored custom, and it must be stopped.
But the triumphant freshmen kept right on, laughing in the faces of their angry foes.
It was expected that Browning would not delay about getting back at Merriwell and his friends, and the admirers of the king were surprised when he seemed to remain inactive.
Then it came out that Bruce was in training, and it was said that he was putting himself in condition to give Merriwell the worst licking of his life.
Frank heard about it, but he did not seem disturbed in the least. Whenever any one spoke to him about it he merely smiled.
Among the freshmen there were some who believed Merriwell able to hold his own against Browning. They were Harry Rattleton, Jack Diamond and one or two more.
Diamond and Merriwell were not friendly, but they had ceased to be open enemies. For the time being the hatchet was buried, and there was peace between them.
But the two did not become friends. Merriwell continued to assert that Diamond had sand, and Diamond was ready to back his judgment in saying that Merriwell was a match for any man in Yale.
Morey's was a sophomore resort. Juniors and seniors patronized the place, but a freshman was not allowed there unless invited to accompany some of the regular frequenters of the place.
Ditson was ambitious. He was not satisfied to associate with those of his own class, but he wanted it thought he was such a fine fellow that the sophomores picked him up for his company.
Thus it happened that he had succeeded in getting into Morey's several times, but he was killing his own chances of ever having any popularity, although he did not know it.
Browning was angry when he saw the fellow come in. He called one of the sophs over and said:
"Say, what are you bringing it in here again for, my boy? It's been here too many times already."
"Who—Ditson?"
"Sure."
"We're working him."
"Working him? He's working you—for the drinks."
"That's all right. He's telling us what he knows about Merriwell. If there is anything in that fellow's history that we can use as a sore spot, we may be able to suppress him."
"All right," scowled Browning. "Go ahead and pump the crooked sneak, but don't swallow his lies. I don't believe he knows anything at all about Merriwell."
A few minutes later the soph returned and said:
"I don't think he knows much about him, myself, but he says he's down at Billy's now—or was an hour ago. We might get a chance to Lambda Chi him a little."
Browning seemed to arouse himself.
"That's right," he agreed. "We'll go down to Billy's."
The party filed out of Morey's and Browning took the lead. Ditson went along with them as if he was a sophomore. He seemed to feel himself highly honored, but Browning had hard work to choke back his absolute contempt for the fellow.
As they went along, it was arranged that Ditson should go into Billy's and see if Merriwell was there. One of the sophomores should accompany him. If Merriwell was there and he should come out alone or in company with one or two others, he was to be captured. Browning had a plan that should be carried out if the capture was made.
Ditson seemed to think he was doing something very smart and cunning in betraying a fellow freshman into the hands of the sophomores. He fancied he was making himself solid with Browning's crowd.
Billy's was reached, and one of the sophs went in with Ditson, while the others kept out of sight nearby.
After a little the soph came out and reported that Merriwell and Rattleton were in there. He had treated the house, but Merriwell had absolutely declined to take anything.
"Oh, yes," nodded Browning. "They say he never drinks. That's how he keeps himself in such fine condition all the time. He will not smoke, either, and he takes his exercise regularly. He is really a remarkable freshie."
Arrangements were then made that a cab should be brought to the corner near Billy's, where the driver should remain, apparently waiting for somebody.
It was known to be quite useless to attempt to decoy Merriwell out, so dependence must be placed on chance. If he came out with no more than one or two companions his name was "mud," according to the assembled sophs.
Arrangements were made to bind handkerchiefs over their faces to the eyes, so they would be partly disguised. Some of them turned their coats wrong side out, and some resorted to other means of disguising themselves.
Then they waited patiently.
It was not so very long before Ditson came out in a breathless hurry. He signaled, and they called him. As he hastened up he panted:
"Merriwell is coming right out, fellows! Be ready for him!"
The sophomores knew which way Frank was likely to go after leaving Billy's, and they lay in wait at a convenient spot.
"Is he alone?" eagerly asked Puss Parker.
"No."
"Who is with him?"
"Rattleton."
"Any others?"
"Not likely."
"Good! Take a tumble to yourself and skip."
Ditson did so.
"Now, fellows," hurriedly said Browning, "be ready for a struggle. Remember that Merriwell is a scrapper and he is likely to resist. We must take him completely by surprise. Get back and lay quiet till I give the signal."
They did as directed, and as they were in a dark corner, there was not much danger that they would be seen till they were ready to light on their game.
Footsteps were heard.
"Here he comes!"
Browning peered out, and two figures were seen approaching.
"How many?" anxiously whispered Tad Horner, quivering with anxiety.
"Two. They are easy. Ready for the rush."
The sophomores crouched like savage warriors in ambush.
Merriwell's peculiar, pleasant laugh was heard as the two unsuspecting freshmen approached.
Rattleton was talking, and, as usual, he was twisting his expression in his haste to say the things which flashed through his head.
"It doesn't make a dit of bifference if we haven't proved anything against him, I say Ditson can't be trusted. He's got a mooked crug—I mean a crooked mug."
"Oh, don't be too hard on the fellow till you know something for sure," advised Merriwell. "I will confess that I do not like him, but—"
There was a sudden rush of dark figures out of the shadows, and the two freshmen were clutched. Coats were flung over their heads and they were crashed to the ground.
Although taken by surprise, both lads struggled.
In the suddenness of the rush Browning had made a mistake and flung himself on Rattleton, while he had intended to grasp Merriwell. The coat being cast over the head of the lad prevented him from discovering his mistake.
Punch Swallows and Andy Emery were devoting themselves to Merriwell, and it was their first impression that they had tackled Rattleton.
For an instant it seemed that the trick had worked to perfection, and the freshmen had been made captives easily.
Then came a surprise.
Swallows and Emery were unable to hold their man down. He tore off the smothering coat and rose with them, despite all they could do. They cried out for help:
"Give us a hand, fellows! He's like an eel! Quick!"
Some of the sophs had been unable to render much assistance, and they now did their best to aid Swallows and Emery. In their haste to do something they seemed to get in the way of each other.
"Well, I don't know—I don't know!" laughed a familiar voice, and the freshman gave Swallows a snap that lifted him off his feet and cast him into the stomach of another fellow, who received such a blow from Punch's head that the wind was knocked out of him in a moment.
"We'll have to see about this," said the freshman as he cracked Emery on the jaw and broke his hold.
"Great smoke! It's Merriwell!" gurgled Emery as he reeled back.
"Onto him, fellows!" urged a soph, and Frank suddenly found six or seven of the crowd were at him.
Just how he did it no one could tell, but he broke straight through the crowd and in another moment was rushing back toward Billy's, shouting:
"Lambda Chi! Lambda Chi!"
It was useless to try to follow him, as all quickly saw.
In the meantime Rattleton had been cornered, and the disappointed sophs resolved to escape with him. They lifted him and made a rush for the cab. He was bundled in, and away went the cab.
Frank rushed into Billy's and gave the alarm. He was out again in a very few seconds, with a crowd of excited freshmen at his heels; but when they came to look for the sophomores and Rattleton they found nothing.
"Confound it!" exclaimed Frank in dismay. "How could they get him away so quick? I can't understand it."
The freshmen searched, but they found nothing to reward them. Rattleton was in the toils of the enemy, and the would-be rescuers were given no opportunity to rescue him.
Then Merriwell blamed himself for leaving his roommate at all. But Billy's had been so near and his chance with his many assailants had seemed so slim that he had done what seemed the right thing to do on the spur of the moment. He had not fancied that the sophomores would be able to get Harry away before he could arouse the freshmen and bring them to the rescue.
"Poor Harry! I wonder what they will do with him?" Frank speculated.
"Oh, they won't do a thing with him!" gurgled Bandy Robinson.
"How did it happen, anyway?" asked Roland Ditson, who had joined the freshmen after the affair was over.
He tried to appear innocent and filled with wonder and curiosity, but his unpopularity was apparent from the fact that nobody paid enough attention to him to answer his question.
Frank, however, found it necessary to tell his companions all about the assault, and Ditson pretended to listen with interest, as if he had known nothing of the affair.
The freshmen went back to Billy's and held a council. It was decided to divide into squads and make an attempt to find out where Harry had been taken.
This was done, but it proved without result, and not far from midnight all the freshmen who had been there at the time of the capture, and many others, were again gathered at Billy's. They were quite excited over the affair, and it seemed that the beer they had absorbed had gone to the heads of some of them.
In the midst of an excited discussion the door burst open, and a most grotesque-looking figure staggered into the room. It was a person who was stripped to the waist and painted and adorned like a redskin, his face striped with red and white and yellow, his hair stuck full of feathers, and his body decorated with what seemed to be tattooing.
"Bive me a gear—I mean give me a beer!" gasped that fantastic individual. "I am nearly dead!"
"It's Rattleton!" shouted the freshmen.
They crowded around him.
"Well, say, you are a bird!" cried Lucy Little, whose right name was Lewis Little.
"A regular bird of paradise," chuckled Bandy Robinson.
"Where are those fellows?" demanded Frank Merriwell. "Where did they leave you? Tell me, old man."
"At the door," faintly replied Rattleton as he reached for a mug of beer which some one held toward him. "They took me right up to the door and made me come in here."
"Out!" shouted Frank—"out and after them! Capture one of them if possible! We want to even this thing up."
Out they rushed, but once more the crafty sophomores had vanished, and not one of them was to be found.
The freshmen went back and listened to Harry's story. He told how he had been blindfolded and taken somewhere, he did not know where. There they had kept him while his friends were searching. When there was no danger that the freshmen would discover them, they set out to have fun with Rattleton.
"Say, Merry, old man," said Harry, "I know Browning was the leader of this job, although he was disguised. They seemed to feel pretty bad because you got away. They got twisted—took me for you at first, and by the time they discovered their mistake you were knocking them around like tenpins. One chap insists you broke his jaw."
"Well, I am glad I did that much. I didn't mean to leave you, Harry. Billy's was so near I thought I could get the boys out and rescue you before they could carry you off. I couldn't rescue you alone, so I ran here to stir up the fellows."
"That was right. I was glad you got away. They were laying for you. They told me so."
"Well, come back, and we'll wash this stuff off you."
"I don't know as you can do it."
"Eh? Why not?"
"They said it was put on to stay a while. They told me we were so fond of playing the noble red man's part that they would fix me so I could play it for a week or two. Some of them advised me to use sand to scrub myself with if I hoped to get the paint off."
"Oh, that must be all a bluff. It will come off easy enough if a little cocoa butter is used on it. Here, somebody run out to a drug store and get some cocoa butter."
After they had worked about fifteen minutes they looked at each other in dismay, for they had scarcely been able to start the paint, and it become plain that cocoa butter, soap and water would not take it off.
"Didn't I tell you?" murmured Harry, sorrowfully. "I'm done for! I'll never be able to get it off! I'll have to go out West and live with the Sioux! If I do I'll take along the scalps of a few sophomores!"
They continued to work on him for nearly an hour, but were unable to get off more than a certain portion of the paint. Harry was still grotesquely decorated when the boys arrived at the conclusion that further scrubbing with the materials at hand was useless.
Then Frank went out and rang up a druggist who had gone to bed, for it was after midnight. He told the man the sort of scrape his friend was in and offered the druggist inducements to give him something to remove the paint.
The druggist said it could not be paint, but must be some sort of staining, and he gave Frank a preparation.
Frank went back and tried the stuff on Harry. It removed a certain amount of the stain, but did not remove it all.
At last, being thoroughly worn out, Rattleton said:
"I'll give it up for to-night, fellows. Perhaps I'll be able to get the rest off in the morning. I'll poultice my face and neck. But you'll have to watch out, Frank. They say they will use you worse than this when they get hold of you."
For the time the sophomores seemed to have the best of the game.
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 usedSoap?"
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!
Spat!
Merriwell staggered.
"Down you go!"
Browning followed the freshman closely, launching out again, with the full expectation that the second blow would be a settler.
Frank had been taken slightly off his guard, so that he had failed in getting away from the first blow, but he skillfully ducked the second, countering as the king's fist passed over his shoulder.
Browning reeled backward, having received a terrific crack on the ear.
If Frank had not been slightly dazed he might have followed the sophomore closely, but he was a bit slow in getting after Bruce.
For a few seconds the boys gave an exhibition of scientific sparring which would have proved very interesting to their comrades if all had not been too busy to watch them.
Frank Merriwell contiuued to laugh, and it had been said at Yale that he was most dangerous in an encounter when he laughed.
"You came near doing it, Browning," he admitted, "but it was rather tricky on your part. I wasn't looking for a fight."
"You will get many things you are not looking for before you have been at Yale much longer," returned the king.
"Think so?"
"Dead sure."
The two lads seemed to be very evenly matched, save that Merriwell was the more catlike on his feet. Browning was solid, and it took a terrific blow to stagger him. Merriwell was plainly the more scientific. He could get in and away from his foe in a most successful manner, but he saw that in the confined limits of a ring Browning's rush would be difficult to escape.
What the result of this encounter might have been cannot be told, for two freshmen suddenly appeared and gave the alarm that at least a hundred sophomores were coming in a body to aid their comrades.
A moment later the sophs appeared, hurrying along the street toward the scene of the encounter.
"'Umpty-seven! 'Umpty-seven! Rah! rah! 'rah!"
Then the signal was given for the freshmen to break away and take to flight, which they promptly did.
"Oh, soph—oh, my poor soph!" cried many taunting voices.
"Good-evening, gentlemen!" called Bandy Robinson. "Shall I toss you down soap and towels?"
"Say, fellows," cried Lucy Little, "don't you think it is rather warm out this evening?"
"Hello! hello!" shouted Rattleton. "Has it been raining, or did we have a small shower?"
Then Merriwell's beautiful baritone voice pitched the chorus of a familiar negro melody, in which the triumphant and delighted freshmen joined:
"Git erway from de window, mah love an' mah dove!Git erway from de window—don't yeh heah?Come eround some odder night,For dere's gwine ter be er fight,An' dar'll be razzers er-flyin' through de air."
The sophomores retired to a safe distance and then challenged the freshmen to come out and fight. They called them cowards and other things, but the freshmen laughed and taunted them in return.
"Is—er—King Browning present?" yelled a freshman, leaning out of a window. "If so, I'd like to inquire if he means to attend the party this evening."
"If he does," said another freshman, "he will be able to obtain a dress suit down at Cohen's, price 'von tollar ber efenin' to shentlemen.'"
"Oh, you wait till we get at you fresh ducks!" shouted back an angry sophomore. "We'll make you sweat for this!"
"Go on! you're only fooling!" sang the freshmen.
"We'll show you we're not fooling!" excitedly declared Punch Swallow. "We'll scalp a few of you!"
"Ah!" cried Bandy Robinson. "He is a bad man! Methinks I can detect his cloven foot."
"You're wrong," laughed Merriwell. "But you may have been near enough at some time to detect his cloven breath!"
The three freshmen who were leaning out of one of the upper windows repeated in chorus:
"Punch, brother—punch with care,Punch in the presence of the passenjair."
Another freshman shouted:
"Say, Swallows, give us a lock of your hair. It'll save the expense of gas in my room."
"I'd like a lock of it, too," declared another. "I'm troubled with rats, and I haven't any paris green handy."
"Oh, rats!" yelled twenty voices.
"Hello, Parker!" cried Little. "I hear you were held up last night? Is it true?"
"Oh, yes," said Rattleton. "He'd been down to Morey's, and that was the way he got home."
"But oh, what a difference in the morning," sang the freshmen.
"Ask Rattleton if he means to join the Indians?" called a soph.
"Or will he Sioux for damages?" put in another.
"Oh, say!" groaned Dismal Jones. "That's the worst I ever heard! It's enough to give one heart failure!"
"Come out and fight! Come out and fight!" urged the sophomores. "You don't dare to come out and fight!"
"You will have to excuse us this evening, gentlemen," said Merriwell, suavely. "We have done our best to entertain you, and we will see you again at some other date."
"You are certain to see me again," assented Browning. "You ran away, or we would have settled matters between us this evening. As it is, I am going to watch my opportunity to do you fairly and squarely. When I am done with you one of us will be beautifully licked."
"And that one will not be King Bruce," declared Andy Emery.
"Say! say! say!" spluttered Rattleton. "I'll go you a shot that it is! I'll stand you a supper for twenty at any place you'll name that Merriwell knocks the everlasting stuffing out of Browning."
"Done!" returned Emery.
"You name plime and tace—I mean time and place, and we'll be there, you bet!" declared Harry. "All we want is a fair deal."
"You'll get that," assured Browning. "This little affair shall be arranged very soon."
"The sooner the better. Don't delay on our account."
The sophomores, seeing it was useless to linger there and be taunted by the freshmen, began to stroll away one by one.
Up in Merriwell's room Rattleton got down his banjo and began to put it in tune. A merry party gathered there. One of the strings snapped, and as he was putting on another Harry fell to laughing.
"What are you laughing at?" asked Bandy Robinson.
"Down at the table to-night," explained Harry, "Merriwell was poking his finger into the butter. I asked him what he was doing that for, and he said he was only feeling its muscle."
The boys who dined in the house appreciated that, and there was a general laugh. Then Harry adjusted the string and placed the banjo in tune. Pretty soon the boys were singing "Bingo," "Upidee," "Nellie Was a Lady," and other college songs. Every one of them seemed familiar with "Paddy Duffy's Cart" and its pretty chorus: