Page 14 - The Adventures of a Freshman

Up the gravel driveway the black mass crept toward the opening between the dark Library and darker
Dickinson Hall.

Young was grabbing tight hold of the Freshman in front of him and wondering what would come next.

They were just through the opening and were about to turn toward the quadrangle. Suddenly there was a
rumbling sound, like distant thunder.

Then shouted Jack Stehman, the big Junior: "Here they come! here they come. Now then keep together,
fellows, keep together, keep together--come at 'em hard!"

Now the many feet of the Freshman column began to rumble. On they plunged, increasing their speed every
second.

The spectators on either side sprang back. On came the Sophomores with still more momentum, showing a
front row of hardened football men with football suits. A distant light shone on them and Young had a vivid
glimpse of their determined faces.

Then, with the Juniors crying, "Come faster! come faster! stick together!" and the Seniors who coached the
Sophomores shouting, "Rush 'em, rush 'em, rush 'em!" the two lines came together.

Young was conscious of a dull crunching "thrump." It sounded as if bones were breaking, though none was.
Then he saw the two rows in front of him lifted up in mid-air. The front rows of Sophomores were squeezed
up also. It was like colliding trains of cars. Young could see them up there struggling, could hear them
straining and grunting and pushing and shouting while the distant light gleamed on their dishevelled hair.

"Now! now! that's the way--now we're getting them!" one of the Juniors was shrieking.

"That's the way!" yelled another.

"Stick together!" roared Stehman, jumping in and shoving mightily himself. He seemed as strong and as
regardless of his body as a mad bull, and yet he was as calm as a man loading hay.

"Rush 'em off the campus! Rush the Freshmen!" shouted the Seniors now becoming alarmed.

"Yea-a-! we're doing 'em," panted the well-built man beside Young. "Shove! shove! shove!"

Young was straining and shoving with his teeth set and he felt as if his ribs would soon break. But he had the
exultant joy of victory. His feet were off the ground and he was being carried along by the force of those
behind him.

The Sophomores had tried to take them by surprise before they got up the grade by the Library. If they had
been successful they would have made short work of the Freshmen. As it was they had more momentum, but
in hurrying across the campus to accomplish their design their lines had become loose. The Freshmen, on the
other hand, were solid through and through, and now the compact mass in the rear was beginning to tell. The
Freshmen were shoving the Sophomores back. Young heard shouts of victory.

But at this point the usual and natural result took place. The lines were too long for their width, and so it was
only for a moment that they kept straight head to head; the pushing from behind bent them and they doubled
in upon themselves. The Freshmen 'way back there in the rear thinking the Sophomores had retreated rushed
on hard, shouting for their class and their victory, while at the same time part of the Sophomores did the same
thing on the other side. And so sections of each column passed each other shouting, "Rush 'em!" and the rest