"Humph! He must be a fine pitcher if he gets nervous," declared Clinton.
Langridge glanced at the circle of freshmen about him. There were enough of them to stand off the rush of the sophomores, who, as they came nearer, were observed to be rather few in number.
"Here it goes!" exclaimed the rich youth, and he threw the lead weight with all his force. It struck the cross, but did not carry the cord over the arm.
"At 'em, fellows! At 'em!" yelled the leading sophomores. "Tear 'em apart! Don't let 'em get the clapper!"
There was a struggle on the outer fringe of freshmen, who crumpled up under the attack of the second-year lads.
"Hold 'em back!" yelled Langridge. There was no longer any need of caution.
The sophomores were hurled back by the weight of superior numbers. Seeing this their leader hastily sent for reinforcements. Meanwhile the others renewed their attack on the freshmen. Langridge prepared to make another cast.
"He'll never do that in a week!" exclaimed Clinton in disgust. "Why doesn't some one who can throw try it?"
"I'll throw, all right!" cried Langridge, as he untangled the cord, which was in a mass at his feet. He was about to make another attempt,
