CHAPTER IV
TREACHERY IN THE CAMP
"Columbiad! Columbiad!"
It was the call for assistance, known to, and respected by, every boy who loved the name of Columbia High School—a rallying cry in time of emergency, when the enemy had carried the ball down close to the home goal, and almost supernatural efforts were needed, in order to beat back the rising tide.
Never did the old familiar yell of "Hey, Rube!" appeal more positively to canvasmen connected with a traveling circus, when set upon by rowdies in some wayside town, than did this shout.
Ralph had no time for more. From three sides he found himself attacked by unknown foes. Some had their hats drawn far over their faces, in order to conceal their identity, while others had gone still further, and tied handkerchiefs over the lower half, with the same purpose in view.
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