Frank Merriwell at Yale Part 24

"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 pa.s.s now. We will see you again."

"We see you now, and we are going to raise you the limit."

The soph.o.m.ores 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 pa.s.s."

"We'll do that, but you will have to pa.s.s on the outside."

That was something the soph.o.m.ores could not do without yielding to the freshmen, and they felt that they had rather die than yield unless compelled to do so.

The soph.o.m.ores stormed and scolded, and the freshmen, who outnumbered them, laughed and flung back taunts.

Then the soph.o.m.ores 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 soph.o.m.ores.

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 soph.o.m.ores 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 soph.o.m.ores 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 soph.o.m.ores. 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 soph.o.m.ores 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 soph.o.m.ore 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.