CHAPTER X
A WILD NIGHT
"Say, Ricky is sure putting up a great fight!"
"Yes, and he's as wiry as they make 'em!"
"He'll make 'em wish they'd let him alone--maybe."
"And maybe not," returned Spike. He and Joe had passed these remarksafter a grim silence, followed by a resumption of the crashing strugglein the hall near the front door. "There are too many of 'em for him,"went on Joe's room-mate.
"Wait until I take a peep," proposed the young pitcher. He advanced tothe door, rolling up his sleeves as he went.
"Don't!" snapped Spike. "They'll be here soon enough as it is, withoutus showing ourselves. I'd just as soon they'd pass us up this trip--it'san unpleasant mess."
"That's right. Maybe we can stand 'em off."
"No such luck. I think they're coming."
The noise in the hall seemed redoubled. Ricky could be heardexpostulating, and from that he changed to threats.
"I'll make you wish you hadn't tried this on me!" he shouted. "I'llpunch----"
"Oh, dry up!" commanded someone.
"Stuff some of that paste in his mouth!" ordered another voice.
"A double shampoo for being too fresh!"
"No, you don't! I won't stand----"
"Then take it lying down. Here we go, boys!"
"I--Oh----" and Ricky's voice trailed off into an indistinct murmur.
"He's getting his," said Spike in a low tone.
"And I guess here is where we get ours," said Joe, as the rush of feetsounded along the corridor, while someone called:
"Come on, fellows. More work for us down here. There are some of theFreshies in their burrows. Rout 'em out! Smash 'em up!"
The tramping of feet came to a pause outside the door of our twofriends.
"Open up!" came the command.
"Come in!" invited Joe. They had not turned the key as they did not wantthe lock broken.
Into the room burst a nondescript horde of students. They were wild anddisheveled, some with torn coats and trousers, others with neckties andcollars missing, or else hanging in shreds about their necks.
"Ricky put up a game fight!" murmured Joe.
"He sure did," agreed Spike.
"Hello, Freshmen!" greeted the leader of the Sophomores. "Ready foryours?"
"Sure," answered Spike with as cheerful a grin as he could muster.
"Any time you say," added Joe.
"The beggars were expecting us!" yelled a newcomer, crowding into theroom.
"Going to fight?" demanded someone.
"Going to try," said Joe coolly.
"Give 'em theirs!" was the yell.
"What'll it be--paste or mush?"
Joe saw that several of the Sophomores carried pails, one seeminglyfilled with froth, and the other with a white substance. Neither wouldbe very pleasant when rubbed into the hair.
"Maybe you'd better cut 'em both out," suggested Joe.
"Not on your life! Got to take your medicine, kid!" declared a tallSophomore. He made a grab for Joe, who stepped back. Someone swung atour hero, who, nothing daunted, dashed a fist into his antagonist'sface, and the youth went down with a crash, taking a chair with him.
"Oh, ho! Fighters!" cried a new voice. "Slug 'em, Sophs.!"
Joe swung around, and could not restrain a gasp of astonishment, for,confronting him was Ford Weston, the 'varsity pitcher. On his partWeston seemed taken aback.
"Jove!" he cried. "It's the little country rooster I saw pitch ball. Soyou came to Yale after all?"
"I did," answered Joe calmly. It was the first he had met his rival faceto face since that time on the campus when Weston had not known him.
"Well, we're going to make you sorry right now," sneered Weston. "Upboys, and at 'em!"
"Let me get another whack at him!" snarled the lad Joe had knocked down.
There was a rush. Joe, blindly striking out, felt himself pulled, hauledand mauled. Once he went down under the weight of numbers, but he foughthimself to a kneeling position and hit out with all his force. He washit in turn.
He had a glimpse of Spike hurling a tall Sophomore half way across theroom, upon the sofa with a crash. Then with a howl the second-year menclosed in on the two Freshmen again.
Joe saw Weston coming for him, aiming a vicious blow at his head.Instinctively Joe ducked, and with an uppercut that was more forcefulthan he intended he caught the pitcher on the jaw.
Weston went backward, and only for the fact that he collided with one ofhis mates would have fallen. He clapped his hand to his jaw, and as heglared at Joe he cried:
"I'll settle with you for this!"
"Any time," gasped Joe, and then his voice was stopped as someone'selbow caught him in the jaw.
"Say, what's the matter with you fellows?" demanded a voice in thedoorway. "Can't you do up two Freshmen? Come on, give 'em what's comingand let's get out of this. There's been too much of a row, and we've gotlots to do yet to-night. Eat 'em up!"
Thus urged by someone who seemed to be a leader, the Sophomores went atthe attack with such fury that there was no withstanding them. The oddswere too much for Joe and Spike, and they were borne down by the weightof numbers.
Then, while some of their enemies held them, others smeared the pasteover their heads, rubbing it well in. It was useless to struggle, andall the two Freshmen could do was to protect their eyes.
"That's enough," came the command.
"No, it isn't!" yelled a voice Joe recognized as that of Weston."Where's that mush?"
"No! No!" expostulated several. "They've had enough--the paste wasenough."
"I say no!" fairly screamed Weston. "Hand it here!"
He snatched something from one of his mates, and the next instant Joefelt a stream of liquid mush drenching him. It ran into his eyes,smarting them grievously, and half blinding him. With a mad struggle hetore himself loose and struck out, but his fists only cleaved the emptyair.
"Come on!" was the order.
There was a rush of feet, and presently the room cleared.
"Next time don't be so--fresh!" came tauntingly from Weston, as hefollowed his mates.
"Water--water!" begged Joe, for his eyes seemed on fire.
"Hold on, old man--steady," came from Spike. "What is it?"
"Something in my eyes. I can't see!"
"The paste and mush I expect. Rotten trick. Wait a minute and I'llsponge you off. Oh, but we're sights!"
Presently Joe felt the cooling liquid, and the pain went from him. Hecould open his eyes and look about. Their room was in disorder, but,considering the fierceness of the scrimmage, little damage had beendone.
But the lads themselves, when they glanced at each other, could notrepress woeful expressions, followed by laughs of dismay, for truly theywere in a direful plight. Smeared with paste that made their hair standup like the quills of a fretful porcupine, their shirts streaked withit, they were indeed weird looking objects. Paste was on their faces,half covering their noses. It stuffed up their ears and their eyesstared out from a mask of it like burned holes in a blanket.
"Oh, but you are a sight!" exclaimed Spike.
"The same to you and more of it," retorted Joe. "Let's get this off."
"Sure, before it hardens, or we'll never get it off," agreed Spike.
Fortunately there was plenty of water in their room, and, stripping totheir waists they scrubbed to such good advantage that they were soonpresentable. The removal of their coats and vests had saved thosegarments.
"They went for you fierce," commented Spike. "Who was that fellow whocame in last?"
"Weston--'varsity pitcher."
"He had it in for you."
"Seemed so, but I don't know why," and Joe related the little scene theday of the Silver Star-Resolute game.
"Oh, well, don't mind him. I say, let's go out."
"What for?"
"It's going to be a wild night from the way it's begun. Let's see someof the fun. No use trying to study, I'm too excited.
"
"I'm excited too. But if we go out they may pitch onto us again."
"No, we can claim immunity. I want to see some of the other fellows gettheirs. We'll get Ricky and the other bunch and have some fun."
"All right; I'm with you."
They dressed, and, having made their room somewhat presentable, theycalled for Ricky. He was busy trying to get rid of his shampoo, whichhad been unusually severe. He readily fell in with the notion of goingout, and with Hank Heller and Slim Jones in the party the five set out.
They swung out into Wall street, up College, and cut over Elm street tothe New Haven Green, where they knew all sorts of tricks would be goingon. For the Sophomores had started their hazing in earnest.
It was indeed a wild night. The streets about the college buildings werethronged with students, and yells and class-rallying cries were heard onevery side.
"Let's go over to High street," proposed Joe, and they ran up Temple, toChapel, and thence over to High, making their way through throngs.Several times they were halted by groups of Sophomores, with commands todo some absurdity, but an assertion that they had been shampooed, withthe particulars, and the evidence yet remaining in spots, was enough tocause them to be passed.
High street was filled with even a greater crowd as they reached it, aparty of Freshman pouring out from the college campus endeavoring toescape from pursuing enemies.
Through Library street to York they went, with shouts, yells and noisesof rattles and other sound-producing instruments.
"Let's follow and see what happens," proposed Ricky. "I want to see someother fellow get his as long as I had mine."
Just then Joe saw several figures come quietly out from behind abuilding and start up York street, in an opposite direction from thattaken by the throng. Under the glare of an electric light he recognizedWeston and some of the crowd who had shampooed them. Some sudden whimcaused Joe to say:
"There's the fellows who shampooed us. Let's follow and maybe we can getback at 'em. There are only five--that's one apiece."
"Right you are!" sang out Ricky. "I want to punch someone."
"Come on then," signalled Spike. "I'm out for the night. It's going tobe a wild one all right."
And truly it seemed so.