rope rose in the air and slipped over the cross. It was held down on one side by several turns taken around a post. Then it was made taut at the opposite end.
"Shin up now, Snail!" cried Langridge, who had again assumed command of things. "Quick! We'll hold the rope! Get the clapper!"
The night-loving youth moved slowly forward. But, in spite of his lack of speed, he managed to make good time up the rope, which he skilfully ascended hand over hand.
"Don't let 'em get the clapper!" "Break through and yank down the rope!" were the cries of the sophomores.
Again and again they hurled themselves against the circle of freshmen, who protected the two groups of their comrades holding either end of the rope.
"Hold 'em, boys! Hold 'em!" pleaded Langridge.
Tom Parsons threw himself into the thick of the fight. He gave blows, and he took them, all in good nature. Once, when a small sophomore broke through, Tom picked him up bodily and deposited him outside the circle of defenders.
"Say, he's got muscle, all right," observed Clinton to Kerr.
"That's what. There's class there, all right
